This Time With Feeling
by Crimson1
Summary: "Derek Hale, if you refuse to learn from your past…then you will be doomed to repeat it." In which Derek is turned into a 16-year-old and has to stay with Stiles until they figure out how to turn him back. Eventual slash and smut, set post season 2, semi-AU.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: As promised, here is the beginning of my Derek gets turned into a 16-year-old fic, which I believe will be about 7 chapters in all. There will be smut of more than one kind, which is all I'll say for now. The fic also assumes that everything that happened in Season 2 still happened, except Peter is leading the Alpha pack on a wild goose chase, because…I don't want to try and deal with that, or him, but I wanted to be able to include wolf Jackson, so...mildly AU post Season 2, with slash.

Enjoy!

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**This Time With Feeling**

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Stiles could pinpoint the exact moment when his life was no longer under his control, and it wasn't that night when he had inadvertently changed his and Scott's lives forever by sharing the knowledge of half a body found in the woods—much as that may, on the surface, seem like the right answer.

No, somehow—and Stiles wasn't even sure how, he just knew this to be true—the moment everything changed was when Derek Hale tossed Scott his inhaler in those same woods, and for one brief moment, Derek's and Stiles' eyes met. _That_ was when Stiles was pulled into the fray, not simply because of Scott, but because of Derek.

So, considering they hadn't spent too much time lately in the woods behind the Hale House, Stiles found it exceedingly funny that just when it seemed like he had his life under control again, that was where he found himself. In the woods, heading toward Derek's burnt and forgotten old house.

Perfect.

The hunters no longer camped out there. Gerard was gone—presumed dead. Chris Argent was on their side, much as Stiles barely believed that could be possible. And Alison…well, she and Scott were on a very awkward 'break', but at least she wasn't shooting arrows into any more of Stiles' wolf friends. The house should be empty.

And it was, only whatever creature they were currently chasing down—a hag/witch thing?—had decided to head there, of all places, when trying to run away from them. Only there was no way she was _running away_, because leading them to the Hale House was way too telling; something else was going on. And it really pissed Stiles off that Derek had told the wolves to split up, which left Stiles stumbling through the woods on his own, and no one was answering their cell phones so Stiles could tell them what idiots they were being.

This was a trap. For what, Stiles didn't know. He just hoped his more direct route to the Hale House got him there before the trap was sprung.

Scott, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and…_Jackson_…were all supposed to surround the Hale House with a wide radius, to make sure the witch didn't get away, while Derek tailed her more closely. Stiles was still a little weirded out by Jackson being a normal born-again part of the pack, but he had been acting surprisingly humble since his transformation into wolf from kanima, especially since he and Lydia seemed closer than ever, and he actually appreciated that Scott had gone out of his way to make sure they saved rather than killed him.

Stiles didn't completely trust that Jackson would follow Derek as unquestioningly as all the others, but so far he hadn't been a complete dick. Besides…he made Lydia happy, happier than Stiles had seen her in a long time, so Stiles couldn't completely hate the guy. Much as he often _tried_.

At last, Stiles could see the form of the Hale House taking shape ahead of him. Occasionally, he could hear howls in the distance, the wolves telling each other that they were in position. Derek had to be inside the house by now, and even though Stiles had been told to stay by his jeep and the other cars, he couldn't rationally do that when he knew Derek was possibly about to get ganked.

Peter might have helped if he was still there—and wow did every part of that sentence nauseate Stiles, mainly the part where Peter was even involved, since he was creepily _alive_ again. But Peter, with vengeance had and the hunters no longer a threat, had volunteered to take on the pack of Alphas lurking nearby and lead them off the others' scent.

Stiles didn't really understand what was going on with all that, but as much as he feared Peter was secretly planning to kill all the Alphas to become some sort of Super Alpha and take over the world, he liked that things had started returning to a sort of normal for Beacon Hills.

Derek was in charge. The pack was safe and united. And hey, Stiles was an honorary human member who Derek didn't tell to get the hell out when he caught him attending pack meetings. Even things with Stiles and his dad were really good.

And then the witch had appeared. No one had died. Yet. But Derek had smelled the hag as soon as she arrived in town. Deaton and the Counselor from school had both suddenly gone missing, and strange things had started happening, like rolling blackouts and all the plants in town overgrowing and blossoming like it was Spring, which Stiles guessed was better than all of them _dying_, but still. Small things normal people would dismiss happened all at once, in the span of a week. Derek had been certain the witch was up to no good and that they had to confront her before the first body showed up.

So there they were, confronting her, only Stiles had a really bad feeling about all this, so he breathed at least a small sigh of relief when he reached the porch of the Hale House and he could hear Derek's voice inside. He couldn't understand what was being said, but as he pushed on the slightly ajar door to step into the entryway, he made out these words plainly:

"Derek Hale, if you refuse to learn from your past…then you will be doomed to repeat it."

The next thing Stiles knew, he was on his ass, on the ground just in front of the porch, having been thrown backwards by some unexpected force before he could even see what was going on inside. He groaned at the sting of impact, but a little discomfort was hardly going to stop him from continuing his trek into the house to—once again—save Derek Hale's life.

Stiles was up the steps again in moments, throwing open the door and rushing into the entryway. There was no one by the stairs, so he made a quick pan of the immediate areas. At last, he spotted Derek in what was once the living room, in the center on the floor, hunched over like he was in pain. Stiles could barely make out all of him with how he was curled in on himself, but he was definitely not okay.

"Derek?" Stiles said, though he carefully glanced around for the witch. He couldn't hear or see any sign of her.

Derek's shoulders flinched at Stiles' voice and, before Stiles could say anything else or fully cross the room to reach him, a blur of movement too fast for Stiles to follow rushed toward him and then past him out the front door.

_What the hell?_ Stiles thought, quickly moving to follow after him. Was Derek hurt? Did he have the witch's scent and was just giving chase? Why couldn't that guy ever just talk and explain himself before dashing off into the fray?

Stiles stumbled back out of the house. He didn't know which of the other wolves were where around the perimeter, and he had no idea how to tell which direction Derek might have gone, since he—unlike almost everyone else he knew—did not have freakish smelling abilities.

So, Stiles did the only sensible thing he could think of and went straight forward. He ran into the woods directly from the Hale House door, looking for signs of Derek, or any of the other wolves, even of the witch, if only to figure out what was going on. It didn't take long before he was completely turned around and unsure of where he was, let alone where anyone else was.

Stiles was about to give up and yell Derek's name when he suddenly found himself tackled to the ground. One moment, he was standing there, the next, he was on his back, completely winded, with someone on top of him pinning him to the ground.

Blinking up at his attacker and taking in a few labored breaths, Stiles tried to stay calm...only to realize he was staring up into familiar _red_ eyes.

"Derek?" Stiles gasped. "What are you doing? It's me!" He blinked again to clear his vision, but all he could see was red, and fangs, and a bit of pale skin too close to his face.

"Who are you?" Derek shot back, as if the more than obvious 'it's me!' meant nothing to him. Only...it didn't quite sound like Derek. It _did_, but his voice sounded slightly...higher-pitched, even with his wolfy growl to it.

Stiles focused on..._focusing_, but then Derek was smashing his face into the crook of Stiles' neck without any sort of warning, which tickled, and was really kind of awkward, and then Derek was _sniffing him_. "_Dude_...personal space."

"You're not a hunter...you smell like pack," Derek said, the growl gone from his voice, which made him sound even...younger.

_Younger_. That's what the difference was.

Stiles was finally able to sit up and take a good look at the Alpha once Derek moved off of him, finally realizing that no, Stiles was not one of the bad guys. But then Stiles really _looked_ at Derek, and it hit him all at once why Derek sounded young and why he didn't seem to know who Stiles was.

Derek _was_ young. He was standing over Stiles clear as day, looking like he was no older than...well, _Stiles_, and yet he was still so obviously Derek, even in the same clothes, which were too big for him now and made him look drowned, especially in the large leather jacket.

"Who are you?" Derek said again, hazel eyes wide and questioning, not with the narrowed demanding Stiles was used to. "I know all the humans in my pack. What's going on? What happened to my house? Where is everyone?"

Just how bad a suddenly 16-year-old Derek really was hit Stiles just as hard as the first realization. He only managed a muttered, "_Shit_," before they were abruptly interrupted by a cascade of wolves from the surrounding trees.

Stiles saw all of them—Scott, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and Jackson—take in the scene as they tightened their once wide perimeter. But Derek didn't seem to recognize them any more than he recognized Stiles, and he immediately dropped low to the ground in a defensive stance, fangs bared again and red eyes blazing as he shuffled closer to Stiles to…protect him.

He didn't remember who Stiles was, but he was still instinctively _protecting_ him. Stiles couldn't help but feel a rush of pride at that.

But, oh yeah, he was supposed to be being helpful.

"Derek, wait!" he called, struggling to sit up further and scramble to his feet, even with wolfed-out Derek practically on top of him. "Take a good whiff, buddy; they're all pack too."

With expressions to rival Stiles' own stunned look at discovering this younger Derek, the other wolves all kept their distance and remained still, eyes yellow—well, plus Jackson's born-again blue—with their forms still in full beta mode, but not aggressive.

Slowly, Derek approached the wolf closest to him, Isaac, seeming to sense the truth even before he got up close and personal enough to sniff along the curve of Isaac's neck. Stiles had a perfect view of Derek's profile as his eyes fluttered at the scent he found there and then turned hazel again.

Derek stepped back and stared at Isaac with a strange sort of reverence. "You smell like…_mine_," he said.

Isaac smiled.

"Stiles, what happened?" Scott asked, morphing back into human form, while the others did the same. "Did the witch do this to Derek?"

"_Duh_, though I didn't actually see it happen," Stiles admitted. "I heard her say something to him in the house, but when I got in there, he was…like this."

Derek turned to look at Stiles. "Like what? What happened to me?" He looked back to Isaac and then around at the others with the same fascination and frustration. "How can you all be mine? I'm not an Alpha. My _dad's_ the Alpha."

Stiles saw how the others grimaced at the mention, many of them having experienced the same loss of family—especially a loss of fathers—that Derek no longer remembered.

"You are our Alpha," said Erica. "And you _still_ are, even now. It feels the same, being near you. And your eyes are still red when you change."

The others nodded in agreement, moving in even closer to Derek, like they were all trying to gauge his new and yet not so different scent.

"Maybe the witch couldn't break that bond, even though she was able to turn you younger," Boyd offered.

Jackson made a displeased face but kept sniffing the air as he approached Derek. "Weird."

Derek didn't seem at all bothered by how the others were crowding in around him, leaving Stiles sort of left out, just outside the circle of wolves. "How old am I supposed to be?" he asked.

"Twenty-three, I think," said Isaac. "How old are you now?"

Despite taking obvious comfort in the proximity of the others, Derek paled. "Sixteen."

Stiles felt another swell of pride that he had guessed right, but he was really annoyed by the huddle of wolves forgetting about him. He happily pushed Jackson aside so he could join in, which awarded him a half-hearted growl. "Let me give you the rundown. _You_ are Alpha now, and this is your pack. Not sure how smart it would be to tell you the gritty details, but…what's been going on lately is we were hunting down a witch. You were with her last, and now you're…well, like this. At least we don't have to worry about hunters anymore, but we need to find the witch and figure this out fast. You don't even…remember the fire?"

"Fire?" Derek blinked. "_That's_ what happened to my house? What about my family?"

The others all looked at each other, not sure how to respond. Stiles didn't know how to say it either. He knew what it was like to lose family, but not _everyone_.

Derek read their expressions too easily. He swallowed heavily and Stiles saw his fists clench at his sides. "All of them?" he asked in what was a strangely small voice for the Derek that Stiles was used to.

Stiles nodded. "Your uncle, Peter, he's…he's okay. But he's not here right now. It's sort of…complicated, but…the two of you are the only ones left."

Derek nodded, like it was okay, like he hadn't just been told his entire family had been wiped out, even though, for him, they had all been fine a few minutes ago. He must have been regressed to just before the fire happened, which Stiles supposed was a good thing, but not when they still had to tell him it happened.

It was Isaac who moved in first, like he knew it was coming, just before Derek started shaking, and suddenly, Isaac had Derek wrapped in a tight embrace from behind, arms clumsily holding him. The others moved in then, too, like it was perfectly normal for a bunch of teenagers to engage in mass hugs out in the woods.

Stiles got pushed up against Derek simply from the force of the others moving in, but there wasn't anywhere for him to hold on to, or any right position to be in, so he ended up pressed up against Derek's side with his hands trapped against his chest.

From within the center of the huddle, Stiles heard a sob break free, like a choke, like Derek was trying to hold it back, but he couldn't. Then it was silent, the sobs still coming, Stiles knew, if only because he could feel Derek's body shaking, but he cried quietly, safe amidst the mass of bodies.

This was not a typical wolf meeting activity. Despite everything that had happened to all of them, openly crying and engaging in group hugs wasn't something they did. Mostly, Stiles assumed, because Derek would never allow it. He was all about being strong, and holding the anger and grief _in_, until it exploded in a fury of claws and fangs. Sharing and caring time just…wasn't him.

But this was a young Derek who had just learned that his entire family had been dead for years, having to mourn for them all over again like it was the first time.

Stiles kind of wanted to cry too.

The pack huddle broke apart like an exhale, the wolves seeming to know when it was okay to give Derek room again, which meant that Stiles was the last one left pressed up against him, feeling awkward again until he managed to slink back.

Derek smiled at him, and although his eyes were a little red around the edges, his face was dry. He turned to look at Scott. "I can smell that you're pack too…but not from me. Peter?"

Scott hesitated, but rather than try and explain—which Stiles was SO grateful for, he couldn't even express his joy—he simply nodded.

"But you follow _me_," Derek said, not really as a question. "You're my second, so you must be important if I trust you to lead the pack in my absence. I think this counts as an…" he looked at his shrunken form in older Derek's now oversized clothing, "…absence."

Scott smiled wide and blinding at being openly called Derek's 'second in command', even though it was sort of a given lately. "Yeah, of course," Scott said, like he was perfectly okay with—and capable of—leading. Which, Stiles could admit, he sometimes was, but that didn't mean they didn't all stand there staring at Scott for a few minutes, waiting for him to actually _do something_.

Eventually, Stiles pointedly cleared his throat.

"Oh, right!" Scott said. "Well…I know we need to find the witch, but…I don't think it's a good idea to take Derek along looking for her when he doesn't know everything that's going on, and after she already, umm…hexed him. In case she knows about the den, we probably shouldn't take him back there either." He bit his lip like he was really trying to think and use as much of his normal brain power as possible.

Then his eyes drifted to Stiles.

"Hang on…"

"Come on, Stiles, he can't go home. Where else would he be safe? The rest of us need to look for the witch."

Stiles licked his lips, trying to avoid looking directly at Derek. It wasn't that he didn't want to help. Of course he did! Especially with Derek all vulnerable and almost kind of…nice. But Stiles' father was the Sheriff again and, unlike Scott's mom, he knew nothing about the wolves.

"Just sneak him in for the night," Scott said.

"Better yet," said Erica, "introduce him to your dad as a new friend who's spending the night. He won't think it's Derek. Who in their right mind would think someone could be turned younger? He'll totally rationalize the whole thing like people always do, and you'll be fine."

Stiles glared at her if only because that was far too descent logic. Then his gaze moved to rest on Derek.

On _16-year-old_ Derek, looking smaller and less muscular, with a clean-shaven face, his hair still styled in that perfectly spikey, gelled way, his eyes all droopy and hopeful, and damn, even the slight crookedness of his teeth as he genuinely _smiled_ was adorable.

Stiles tried to look apologetic. "Okay. But, eventually, we really need some additional contingency plans other than lying low at the Sheriff's house."

"You're the Sheriff's son?" Derek balked. "But he's so old. He'd be ancient by now." He wrinkled his nose at the thought.

Stiles remembered that his dad first became Sheriff…_after_ the Hale House fire. "My dad was just _Officer_ Stillinski in your time. Sheriff Perkins retired and my dad took over. He's awesome, but…I haven't quite figured out how to explain the 'hey, Dad, I run with a pack of wolves most nights' thing."

Derek snorted—like actually looked and sounded amused rather than just annoyed with him. It was a nice change.

"Cool, so it's settled," Scott said. "You take Derek home, and the rest of us will keep looking for the witch. We'll check in later and hopefully get this fixed before morning."

Scott's assuredness did not actually reassure Stiles in the least. They'd been tracking the witch for _days_.

For a while, everyone simply stood there, no one moving to do what Scott had said they were going to do. Admittedly, Stiles didn't remember how to get back to his jeep, but the others could at least start heading back into the trees.

Then Stiles realized that Derek was looking a little forlorn again, and not just from the knowledge of his lost family. He was looking around at the wolves like he didn't want to part from them, and they were all wearing similar expressions—even Jackson.

"It's just so different…being an Alpha. All of you...it's like you're part of me." Derek smiled and, as the others looked back at him, they couldn't help smiling in reply. If the older Derek felt the same way, he certainly never said anything about it.

Isaac beamed. "Yeah."

While Stiles tried not to feel excluded—again—considering the silent pack bonding occurring around him, he was relieved when Scott finally led the others off, and Boyd made a point of whispering in his ear which direction the cars were parked.

Finally headed in the right direction, with a young Derek in tow, Stiles tried to pretend like he was with someone new, someone he had never met before, which in many ways was true. Stiles was usually pretty good at first impressions, or irretrievably terrible, but always one of the two.

The weird thing was, the slight silence that spread between them at first was actually kind of companionable, which Stiles had never felt being alone with older Derek.

"So..." he couldn't help asking after they had a gone on like that for a few minutes. "I'm pack too? Like…not just that I smell like I'm around the others all the time, which I _am_, but…I'm really _pack_, pack?"

"Don't you know that?" Derek asked.

"Well, it's sort of a given, I know, but…I guess the older you isn't very vocal about that sort of stuff. I mean, I regularly attend pack meetings and get roped into witch hunts, but…you've never actually said the words."

"But you're so important."

Stiles stumbled and turned to stare at Derek like he had grown another head, or maybe de-aged another 7 years.

Derek smiled. "Human members of the pack are always important. And I've marked you as the lead human, meaning if another wolf even considered hurting you, they'd be going against serious law and tradition. It's a true sign of trust, like with my second being, umm…" He trailed.

"Scott," Stiles explained, and then realized they hadn't actually done any sort of introductions, the wolves being able to smell everything important, apparently, other than given names. "The girl is Erica. The clingy one is Isaac. The surly one with blue wolf eyes is Jackson. And the big guy is Boyd. I'm Stiles."

"But you said your dad was Sheriff _Stillinski_," Derek said with a slight frown. Then one of his eyebrows rose in a very normal Derek expression. "Your name is Stiles Stillinski?"

"And proud!" Stiles exclaimed. He added, "It's a nickname," but quickly continued before Derek could ask what his real name was. "We'll get settled at my house and try and relax. I'm sure the others will track the witch fairly fast. Scott can be a surprisingly good leader. Sometimes."

They walked a little further, and Stiles' mind inevitably drifted back to what Derek had said. Since Alison and Lydia—and somewhat Danny—were more or less part of the pack too, the thought of being 'lead human' had Stiles preening. He'd always figured he'd get unfairly beaten out for that role due to the girls also each being a wolf's significant other. He liked knowing that Derek regarded him as more than just a third wheel—ninth wheel?—even if he never said so.

Stiles was relieved when they finally stumbled upon the jeep and the other cars without him having to ask Derek to sniff them out. He turned to Derek after leading him to the passenger door but wasn't quite sure what he planned to say. Instead, he ended up just staring at Derek, because…well, _teenager_.

Teenage Derek was not what Stiles would have expected. Sure, the fire and loss of most of his family probably explained Derek's general personality and outlook on life better than him simply _being that way_, but Stiles had a hard time imagining Derek as anything but the broody and supremely good at lurking wolf boy he had come to know.

Now he didn't have to imagine. A more or less normal, open, _friendly_ Derek, who knew about the fire, but hadn't lived through the horror of it, and was therefore managing to maintain a smile and optimism purely because he had a pack of his own, was standing right in front of Stiles.

He was also standing…about an inch shorter than him.

"What?" Derek said, flitting his eyes to the side when Stiles continued to stare.

Stiles shook his head. "Sorry. It's just…so weird, being taller than the big bad Alpha," he said with a grin.

Derek laughed—free and young and honest—and let his smile overtake his face in a way that older Derek never did. "_You're_ weird," he said fondly.

"Eh, you get used to it, Big Guy—" Stiles stopped himself just as he was using the term. "Huh. Guess I'll have to come up with some new nicknames for you, eh, _Youngblood_."

Derek immediately made a sour face, which was much more like his usual sourwolf self. "Urg, I hate those comics," he said with a grimace.

Stiles could have died right then—Derek actually got his reference! "Me too," he said, patting Derek on the shoulder, for the first time with a confidence that his hand wouldn't be snapped at by fangs. Then he opened the door for Derek and continued smiling as the younger boy climbed into his jeep. "Everybody does."

tbc...

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You can Google the Youngblood comic series, if you like. I have the idea of Derek and Stiles having alot in common. Be on the lookout for Batman underwear! It has apparently decided to become a theme with my Teen Wolf fics. Also, if you want to picture 16-year-old Derek, simply use the cover for this series as reference, because it's a real shot of Tyler about that age, and how I'm imagining him for this.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Ta da! More! Thanks for the great comments on the opening! It's nice to write something sweet, with only some mild angst. Plus the eventual smut should be fun. Let me know what you think!

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Of course Stiles' Dad was home. _Of course he was_. It was after dark on a Friday night, after dinnertime, and, despite being the Sheriff again, Stiles' dad had been trying to be home more often, which had been much more doable ever since the whole kanima mess got settled.

So, of course he was home now, which meant Stiles had to explain where he'd been as well as who he was with, something he still wasn't entirely sure how to go about right up until the moment when he walked up to his house with 16-year-old Derek close behind him…and his dad opened the door with a stern look of _'Where the hell have you been?'_

His dad's sharp blue eyes darted almost immediately to Derek but returned stubbornly to settle on Stiles. "Weren't you supposed to come straight home after lacrosse practice?"

Stiles' dad wasn't always so overprotective, but considering Stiles had been attacked at the police station, showed up constantly at murder scenes, and had recently been 'beaten up by rival lacrosse players', the Sheriff had gotten a little antsier about Stiles being out late.

"It's like…nine o'clock," Stiles shrugged, even though that didn't actually answer the question.

His dad's gaze softened and he returned his attention to Derek. He held the door open wider and stretched out a hand. "Pleased to meet you, son. You're…"

"_Joe_," Stiles jumped in on Derek's behalf, thinking of Joe too-hot-to-not-somehow-be-one-of-Derek's-long-lost-relatives Manganiello. At least Derek didn't look at all ruffled by the Sheriff's sudden appearance.

Derek also looked less like he was swimming in his clothing, since Stiles had stashed the leather jacket and Derek's too-large T-shirt in the back of his jeep and gave Derek his 'Stud Muffin' T-shirt instead. It had been stuffed into the bottom of Stiles' lacrosse bag but didn't smell too well-worn. Well…not to Stiles.

Stiles felt a sudden wave of sympathy for Derek and his awesome smelling abilities.

"Uh, yeah…this is Joe, Dad. He started at school this week, and we…sort of lost track of time at Scott's after practice. I meant to call. Is it okay if he spends the night? We, uhh…wanted to hang out again tomorrow."

The Sheriff's expression softened further, friendly now, but there was still something decidedly calculating about it, which Stiles hoped didn't lead to him realizing why Derek probably looked really familiar. "I suppose that's alright. Can I talk with your parents to confirm it's okay with them?"

Panic slammed into Stiles as if he'd been tackled by Boyd.

But Derek, to his extreme credit, didn't even offer a flash of grief at the mention of his parents. He kept his smile and shrugged apologetically. "Actually, sir, that's why Stiles offered for me to stay. I live with my uncle, but he's out of town on business this week. He made sure I was settled at school before he left, but…it's kind of lonely in the house alone. I figured I'd be spending the weekend in front of the TV before Stiles asked me over. Is it okay?"

_Damn_.

Stiles was reminded of that time Derek wooed the officer at the police station, only this time without any of the flirting part. Just an honest smile, pleading eyes, an innocent little sag to his shoulders…

Apparently, Derek had always been a good liar. Then Stiles realized…it was a lie wrapped up in some pretty heavy _truth_, so of course it sounded sincere.

Stiles turned on his own puppy pout and shrugged Derek's direction when his dad looked at him. The combined efforts were far more than the Sheriff was prepared to handle tonight, it seemed, and he soon stepped back to let them into the house.

"Of course you can stay. But I'll want to talk with your uncle the first chance he gets once he's back in town, just to make sure you boys haven't been up to anything you shouldn't be. Not that I don't trust you, kiddo, but…" his dad's eyes turned away, filled with that familiar regret that he wasn't there for Stiles enough, even though Stiles felt much more like he was the absent one lately.

"I know, Dad, it's fine. A lesser man would have grounded me ages ago," he grinned.

The Sheriff shook his head but smiled back. "There's actually some groceries in the house, for once, if you boys are hungry. I'm pretty beat, so don't be surprised if you find me passed out on the sofa pretty soon. Nice to meet you, Joe," he added, looking Derek over again. Then his brow furrowed. "Boy, I feel like I've seen you somewhere before. You just moved to town? Have you been to Beacon Hills before?"

Again, Derek didn't falter for a second. "Sure, especially over the last few months getting everything settled. My uncle and I have been around town a few times."

The Sheriff nodded, seemingly convinced by this answer, and that the reason Derek looked so familiar was obviously because he had seen him on the street or in a store or…somewhere.

Suspicion left his eyes in exchange for acceptance, just as Erica had predicted, and he excused himself to the living room so the boys could raid the kitchen.

Stiles sighed in relief as he went for the fridge. He was _starving_.

"Joe?" Derek whispered, suddenly right there close at Stiles' side.

Stiles shuddered at the natural heat Derek radiated. "Uhh…yeah. He's an actor you remind me of. Well…_older_ you. I'll force a random episode of _True Blood_ on you so you can see. It's worth it just for him. Though you'll have to forgive that he plays one of those lame werewolves that aren't really _werewolves_."

"Just turns into a wolf?"

"Yep."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Who came up with that copout?"

A swell of…well, Stiles would probably say it was a swell of admiration, because he didn't want to admit it might be a swell of love, even if he was totally _loving_ this side of Derek.

Stiles had long ago dealt with the fact that Derek revved his engine, which was totally normal, considering how freaking hot the guy was, and—up until now—he had completely come to terms with the fact that he still probably had a better chance with _Lydia_, and she and Jackson were practically engaged.

Not that Stiles had ever honestly considered trying anything with Derek. He simply acknowledged that Derek was hot and that said hotness got him…_hot_. His thought process on Derek Hale had never really gone beyond that: hot, smug, and dangerous.

At least it never used to.

Stiles shook his head to clear all those traitorous thoughts away. "So…sandwich?"

Together, Derek and Stiles managed to make a couple sandwiches each, stole a bag of chips and a few sodas, and then headed upstairs, noting that the Sheriff was indeed already passed out asleep with one of those late night talk shows playing on mute in the background. Stiles didn't have the heart to wake him just yet.

Stiles was off in full rant mode about how rare it was that they actually had real food in the house, so he didn't notice at first how stunned and silent Derek became upon entering the bedroom. It wasn't until Stiles had shoved his keyboard aside and plopped down at his desk to eat that he looked over and saw Derek staring in awe around the room.

Derek set his own spoils on the floor as he settled in front of Stiles' bookshelf—the one filled to the brim with comic books and everything on werewolves Stiles had managed to smuggle out of the local and school libraries. He pulled out the large role-playing game handbook _Werewolf: The Apocalypse_ and looked at Stiles with a smirk.

"Okay, _that one_ was just for fun. But some of those I thought might actually be useful," Stiles defended. "My more up-to-date stuff, with real facts, and a list of the things that are 100% bullshit, are all on my computer, but…that stuff's fun for light reading."

"Even though most of it is crap?" Derek chuckled. Then his eyes brightened as he snatched up the DVD for _Van Helsing_. "Oh, I love this one!"

Now Stiles had to chuckle. He set his half-eaten sandwich aside and slipped from his desk chair to join Derek on the floor. "For its accuracy?"

Derek all-out laughed. "The look! This has got to be my favorite fictional look for werewolves ever. Hugh Jackman just looks so big, black-furred, badass Alpha when he's a werewolf. It's as close to accurate as I've ever seen and, you know…_Hugh Jackman_. Kate Beckingsale's pretty hot too."

Stiles' admiration for young Derek was growing exponentially, especially since he wasn't sure if Derek meant that Kate Beckingsale being hot was _also_ a reason to like the movie, or that Kate Beckingsale was _also_ hot, as in…High Jackman was hot. Which he so _was_, Stiles just had never expected Derek Hale to say that.

Derek didn't notice Stiles' mild brain aneurism since he was carefully placing the DVD back on the crowded shelf. "Plus I've always kinda wondered if there were vampires out there, but Laura always rolls her eyes at me when I ask about other supernatural creatures. Dad would probably just get mad."

This admission brought Stiles back to reality and he had to frown.

"He just…really wants everyone to stay safe," Derek said upon noticing Stiles' expression. "So, he likes things being low-key. That's why the house is built in the woods, so we can still do…wolf stuff without people seeing. I still go—_went_—to regular school and everything. I have—_had_—regular friends…" He shrugged, deflating as he realized that everything he said needed to be in past tense now. "Well…Laura was sort of my best friend. And all the rest were…human members of the pack around my age. We all stuck together. Even though not everyone was strictly family, you know?"

Stiles wanted to place a caring hand on Derek's shoulder or something, but he wasn't quite sure how to go about it. He still didn't really know Derek all that well, young or otherwise.

So he pulled on a smile and said, "That's how we are too. For the most part, everyone kind of ends up at the den together. Scott's mom and some other friends of ours are the only ones who know everything. Isaac…he lives with you since his dad…died. But Scott goes home, Jackson's parents are _loaded_, and Erica's mom isn't so bad, though Boyd…well, I guess 'neglected' would be the right word there, so he sticks around you most of the time too. You picked good people who need you, it just…took us awhile to get the right pack dynamic going. I think we almost have it down now. We don't all live in one house, but we're a team, with wolves and humans on our side, and even some understanding hunters. Sort of."

Derek looked understandably wary at the mention of hunters.

"It's an uneasy truce," Stiles shrugged, "but we'll take what we can get. Plus there's Deaton. The local Vet. You said he's a…a Watcher, or something?"

"A Watcher?" Derek's eyes brightened. "That's good. I don't know much about them, but they look out for packs."

Stiles nodded. "He's saved our asses plenty. Only…he sort of went missing after the witch showed up. We've been a little worried." Stiles had to kick himself that with every bit of seemingly good news there was always something equally crappy.

Except the pack itself, because they really were working. The biggest thing holding them back, in all honesty, was usually Derek. _Older_ Derek, who just wouldn't open up and trust any of them nearly as much as he needed to for the whole 'pack' thing to work.

Stiles looked at _younger_ Derek and smiled.

Derek smiled back at him—and wow, was Stiles so never going to get used to that. "So…the other humans in the pack. How do they fit in?"

"Oh, well…Alison is sort of Scott's girlfriend. I say 'sort of' because she's also the local hunter's daughter, and there have been issues, but…things are getting better there."

Stiles decided that the last thing he was going to mention was that Derek had accidentally started Alison's mother down the road to suicide—not that Stiles really mourned the loss of that psycho.

"Then there's Lydia. She's with…Jackson. She's unique. Peter bit her, but nothing happened. She's immune to anything supernatural. We're still trying to figure out if we can use that to our advantage somehow." Which would be really helpful, but Stiles still wasn't sure if that was even possible. "Then there's kind of Danny, Jackson's best friend, who's also on the lacrosse team with a bunch of us, but he doesn't actually know anything. He just tends to get messed up in all of it, and he's a good guy. Considering the boy he was crushing on turned out to be a serial killer, he could probably use some lovin' about now."

"What about you?"

Stiles faltered, unable to think of anything at first other than whether or not he 'needed some lovin'. Then it dawned on him what Derek was really asking. "Oh…I…I'm not with anyone. I'm here because of Scott. Not…because…_gross_. He's my best friend. I was there when he got bit and…it's sort of been a joint venture."

Derek nodded, and Stiles couldn't tell if he looked confused by all of the information being thrown at him or just…relieved and happy.

"Hey, wanna see something crazy?" Stiles reached around Derek toward the row of comics for his first installment of _Captain America: Man and Wolf_. He had all seven issues.

"Does that say…'Capwolf'?"

"Indeed it does."

"Oh my god." Derek proceeded to gently take the issue before rapidly flipping through it.

"Just wait 'til we get to _Marvel Zombies_, dude," Stiles beamed, especially since Scott never appreciated his comic book collection. "One of the endings of that deals with werewolves too."

Derek groaned somewhere between frustration and pleasure. "That doesn't start coming out until December for me. Is it awesome?"

"SO awesome. The Ash cameo nearly killed me."

"Ash…like _Army of Darkness_, Necronomicon, _Ash_?"

"In all his Bruce Campbell perfection. He tricks the Necronomicon into helping him because otherwise the Marvel zombies will eat it, which is total bullshit! It's freaking amazing!" Stiles reached for the first issue of that series and handed it over to Derek as well, which seemed to immediately trump Capwolf.

Considering Stiles had been ten years old when those comics started coming out, he had spent weeks convincing his dad to let him start collecting them. Apparently, zombies and rampant mutilation weren't seen as good content for growing boys. Who knew?

They laughed together as Derek read more carefully through issue #1 of _Marvel Zombies_, and Stiles promised he could borrow the rest, or just read them whenever he wanted—which of course made him wonder if older Derek would even care once they turned him back. Stiles quickly pushed that thought from his mind.

It was easy to forget how late it was getting, considering they had eaten dinner at 9PM and Stiles had gone down to send his dad off to _real_ bed about 11PM. But, well after midnight, they were still mulling over comic books, Stiles' horrible werewolf lore collection, and some truly epic movies, some of which Derek HAD to see, especially if older Derek hadn't seen them yet either.

Who in their right mind hadn't ever seen _Airplane!_?

All the while, a shadow of doubt ached in Stiles' chest, because normal broody Derek would never be this carefree and relaxed—or admit what a huge geek he was—but time and again Stiles chose to shake it off. For now, he had a very awesome Derek to hang out with, and he wasn't about to think about inevitably losing that.

Stiles checked his phone, realizing that he hadn't heard anything from Scott, or anyone else for that matter, but there were no messages waiting for him. He was practically falling over asleep on the floor, he was so tired, something he hadn't realized until he bothered to pull his attention away from Derek.

He promptly sent Scott a message to check in when he could, because they were going to bed now and would just have to deal with everything in the morning. Stiles mentioned as much to Derek, who agreed, and then Stiles crawled over to the bed to pull out his sleeping bag and extra pillows from underneath. Older Derek had used that bedding before, a time or two, holed up in Stiles' room on the run from the police. Young Derek sniffed the air, immediately able to tell, it seemed, since he cocked his head at Stiles.

"Oh, uhh…long story," Stiles shrugged. "You've crashed here before, is all."

Derek just smiled, but something in his eyes told Stiles that he was a bit anxious about the arrangements.

"Hey, no worries. You've been through a lot today," Stiles said, as he began to lay the bedding out on the floor. "You can take the bed. Half the time, I fall asleep at my desk, anyway."

"No, you don't have to do that." Derek reached out and gently grabbed Stiles wrist, which almost caused Stiles to drop the pillow he was holding, since Derek's skin was so strangely…soft. "Can't we just…I mean, if it's not too weird for you, can we…maybe…share?" He blinked luminous hazel eyes at Stiles that looked like a perfect swirl of blue and green and bronze.

Stiles stared at Derek, then down at the sleeping bag, wondering how they could ever both fit in it. He realized what Derek actually meant with a bit of start.

"It's just…sometimes…if something bad or intense happens…there's always someone from the pack to..." Derek shrugged, slowly releasing Stiles' wrist as he seemed to collapse in on himself, weighed down by the reality of everything that had happened.

Stiles swallowed, because something about this other version of Derek made his throat go dry. He tossed the extra pillow onto the bed. "Someone to…snuggle with?" he said with a crooked smile.

Derek chuckled quietly. "Yeah. Laura. Dad. _Peter_."

Stiles tried not to shiver at the mention of Peter, and the image of him snuggled up with Derek.

Derek shrugged again. "Sometimes my friends too. And…you're pack, so…so we're friends, and I just thought…maybe I'd sleep better if…" He trailed and looked away, a flash of grief crossing his face that was so strong, Stiles was reminded of the older Derek and all that pain he carried around with him all the time.

"Hey, it's cool. I don't mind," Stiles said, leaving the sleeping bag crumpled on the floor. "Some of the other wolves are really…touchy feely with each other, like, _all the time_, so I shouldn't be surprised, just…"

"You're not used to it from the older me," Derek said, and it wasn't a question. He looked too solemn for Stiles' liking but, at the same time, Stiles did like that younger Derek was a bit disappointed in his older self for all the times Stiles had to say…that just isn't who you are anymore.

Stiles was glad that he always kept an extra toothbrush around, which Derek was also grateful for, but he couldn't seem to stop blushing when they were changing for bed, even though their eyes weren't anywhere near each other. Stiles had offered Derek a pair of shorts and a fresh T-shirt to sleep in, and the whole time Stiles just kept thinking of that day when Derek was trying on his shirts in front of Danny, all of which were so small it was…well, quite the show.

At the time, Stiles had thought it was funny, because of course he recognized how hot Derek was, or he wouldn't have come up with the ploy to enlist Danny's help in the first place, but it seemed different now when there wasn't any ruse or game to this, and it was just the two of them—about to share a bed.

Stiles' shirts fit Derek perfectly now.

By the time they were slipping under the covers, Stiles was so tired, he was _over_tired, which meant he would be sitting up awhile before he actually fell asleep. It didn't help that his heart rate skyrocketed against his control the second Derek snuggled in close to him with an arm thrown over his waist, their legs touching, and Derek's face pressing into Stiles' neck.

"Is this okay?" Derek asked, since he could probably hear Stiles' heartbeat like a marching band base drum. "You just…" he took a deep breath beneath Stiles' ear, "…smell like…_home_. I can't really explain it, but…I feel calmer, being close to you."

_Wow_. Stiles wondered if that was true of older Derek too, but then he remembered how many times Derek had yelled at him and slammed him into hard surfaces, and figured the answer was probably no.

Derek rested his head on Stiles' shoulder. "Stiles?"

"Uhh…uh, yeah, it's okay. I was just cold, and you're so warm, so it's…giving me goosebumps." Which was totally true, so at least Derek couldn't catch him in a lie.

"Yeah…wolves generate a lot of heat. My normal temperature is like…101."

Stiles nodded, unsure of what else to say. He forced himself to relax into that heat, which really did feel nice, and let his hand come up to rest on Derek's back. He rubbed in small, light circles, feeling himself lulled to sleep already by Derek's breathing, and warmth, and the way he seemed to be…purring.

There was a brief moment when Stiles felt Derek's breath hitch, and he wondered if Derek was going to start crying again, so he tightened his hold and turned his head in toward Derek's hair, which smelled like mint from older Derek's hair gel.

Derek clung to him tightly for a moment, but soon calmed, his breath evening out in small puffs against Stiles' skin.

"So…humans aren't excluded in the whole…pack snuggling thing, huh?" Stiles whispered.

Derek nuzzled his nose against Stiles' neck. "Not the important ones."

tbc...

* * *

Next...there be a puppy pile. :-) And if you don't know who Joe Manganiello is, or haven't seen the awesome video of him and Tyler Hoechlin hugging, you really need to look that up. :-)


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry for the delay this time, but I was swamped with the holiday weekend, appointments, my day job and my fun job...it's a crazy time. :-) So without delay, here's the next part. This might end up being 8 chapters instead of 7. Next part...gets a little steamier. ;-)

Also, check out BigWorldNetwork DOT com for some awesome original fiction, including some of mine. If you know about my massive Supernatural slash fic, Incubus, you can read the original version at this site. We also have an Indiegogo campaign going to raise money, if you want to help support fellow writers!

Enjoy!

* * *

"Hey..."

Stiles stirred at the quiet whisper, but he was so warm and content, he didn't want to move, let alone open his eyes.

"Come on, kiddo...just for a second."

_Dad_. Stiles knew he couldn't ignore his dad, so he willed himself more fully awake and blinked toward the sound of his dad's voice. Blue eyes formed in front of him, close to the side of the bed. His dad was wearing his uniform and had that confused crinkle to his brow.

"Hey...I'm just heading into work and wanted to make sure you knew I'd left. You boys...gonna be okay today?"

Stiles blinked a few more times in response to the question. Then, all at once, he remembered _everything_. The witch. Young Derek. Falling asleep with Derek wrapped around him...which he still _was_, right that second, with Stiles' dad having walked in on them!

Risking a glance to the side, Stiles did indeed find young Derek right where he had left him the night before, curled up close with an arm flung over Stiles' waist, face nuzzled into Stiles' neck, and...even a leg thrown over Stiles' leg as he tightly clung.

_Shit_.

Stiles figured that his only way out of this was complete and utter nonchalance.

"Yeah, Dad, we'll be, uh...fine. Just gonna hang out. I'll send you a text if we leave the house. Promise." Stiles smiled lazily, having kept his voice low, though he had a feeling Derek was probably already awake and only feigning sleep considering his wolf senses.

The Sheriff nodded, mouth opening and closing a few times like he meant to comment, _wanted_ to comment on how he had found his son on this strange morning, but didn't quite know how to broach the subject.

Apathy worked every time.

"Uh...alright then. You boys...you be good." He nodded again, brow still crinkled and eyes trained on the way Stiles was wrapped up with another boy, but unable to comment more than a small smile of good morning and goodbye at the same time as he slipped back out of the room.

Stiles breathed relief. At some point his dad would bring this up, when he'd had more time to process it and consider his earlier speech about Stiles' wardrobe being a clear sign of straightness, but for now Stiles was safe.

Then he felt Derek stir and nuzzle into his neck like he had the night before, so completely at ease, which Stiles was only pretending at.

"Your dad's pretty cool," Derek whispered.

Stiles wanted to laugh, but he wasn't sure what type of movement would be appropriate right now. "Yeah...isn't he just? You, uh...wanna keep sleeping, or...?" Stiles had had a hard enough time with the 'going to sleep like this' part; the 'waking up to a snuggling Derek' part was much harder.

Among other..._harder_ things. Not that they were curled up in quite the right position for Derek to tell Stiles was a morning person, but Stiles was almost positive _he_ could feel...

Derek rolled away before Stiles could complete the observation. He stretched his arms over his head before sitting up on his elbows, and looked down at Stiles with a wide smile that only slightly betrayed the sadness under the surface. To Derek, he had only just recently lost his entire family, after all, not to mention being several years younger than he should be. Yet he still tried to smile, for Stiles' sake.

Adult Derek barely ever did anything for someone else's sake, though Stiles knew that was more because he didn't trust easily, not because he was selfish or that he didn't care.

The Broadway version of Green Day's "21 Guns" started blaring at the climactic final chorus from Stiles phone. He had never been happier that he had gone with that part of the song rather than the verse that reminded him of Derek. Considering that part was, well...

_Did you try to live on your own_

_When you burned down the house and home?_

_Did you stand too close to the fire_

_Like a liar looking for forgiveness from a stone?_

Yeah, he was taking that to the grave.

"What's up? Please tell me you found something," Stiles said into the phone as he answered, having seen the caller ID come up as 'Scott'. He kicked his feet back and forth as he sat on the edge of the bed, fidgety now that he could move freely again. Derek came around to stand in front of him, looking on expectantly.

"Um...not exactly," Scott said, with his usual ineloquence.

"What do you mean? You had all night."

"Yeah, and we searched everywhere. But...when we doubled back to check the Hale House, we...well...we found a note."

"A note. From the witch?"

"I think so."

"What did it say?"

"Uhh...just: 'Some things are meant to play out. Have fun'. It was signed 'Glinda'. Erica said she was making a joke."

"Scott. _Wizard of Oz_."

There was a pause. Then, "Oh!"

Stiles almost smacked his own head in these moments when he wasn't close enough to smack Scott. "So...she split? We can assume, anyway. And we're just supposed to let this play out?"

As Stiles looked up at the dark-haired teen before him, he realized that this wasn't as one-sided a conversation for Derek as it would be for most people, considering..._super senses_. Derek looked pensive, but not entirely upset by what they were learning.

"Okay, so...what now?" Stiles asked.

"Alison. I mean...you now, her dad. I'm not going to say anything about Derek, don't worry. I'll just tell him about the witch in general, see if we can get some extra bodies out there looking for her. In the meantime, we can...hope Deaton shows up and keep following leads 'til we find something, I guess. How's Derek doing?"

Derek's vibrant hazel eyes were locked onto Stiles. He smiled again, small but assuring.

"He's...good," Stiles said. "We're doing good. We'll lie low here and you guys can come over later so we can regroup. Dad already left for work, but I'm sure he'd love the idea of a giant coed sleepover."

Another pause. "Are you joking?"

Stiles really wanted to hit Scott.

"Seriously, because that's...actually a good idea. Maybe we _should_ all stay over there tonight. Erica's the only coed part really. We should be together."

Derek's entire form brightened at Scott's suggestion. He was probably missing all those _'mine'_ feels and the intrusive sniffing.

_Freak_, Stiles thought fondly.

Of course, Stiles got the impression that the rest of the pack was feeling the same way. Like maybe they always wanted to be all over each other all the time, but adult Derek kept that kind of behavior in check. Now they had the chance to be as snuggly as they wanted, which definitely didn't make the 'coed sleepover' part sound any better for when Stiles would have to explain it to his dad. Although it could help distract from the whole 'you found me sleeping with another boy' conversation.

"Sure. Giant sleepover it is," Stiles said. "Assuming dad actually goes for that. When do you think you'll be over?"

"Probably not until later. Everyone wants to change and get some rest, then I'll go over to talk with Alison's dad, then we'll come to you. Call if anything comes up on your end, okay?"

Stiles stifled a snort, considering what _had_ been up—a totally normal reaction to morning and not in any way Stiles' fault—had finally dwindled.

"Will do. Just...be careful with Argent, okay?" Stiles said. "He may be playing nice lately, but he did still try to kill several of us on more than one occasion. Or at least _maim_."

"Yeah, yeah. Talk to you later."

Stiles stared down at his phone as he hung up. A day alone with young Derek. Stiles was actually pretty excited about the prospect, but he didn't want to seem too happy and come off like a creeper. That was adult Derek's job.

"So...as you obviously overheard, we've got nothing to go on right now, but no point in getting all..." Stiles trailed as he looked up at Derek again, taking in the suddenly shrunken and tense boy before him. Derek's face was ashen and blank. "Uh..."

"Did...did you say 'Argent'?" Derek said in a strange, small whisper. "The hunters in town are the _Argents_? But...but Chris just passes through, he doesn't stay. He promised my dad he wouldn't come here for good as long as no one ever hurt anybody. Did he..." He swallowed and Stiles saw him tightly clench his fists, which somehow made him look younger and smaller, standing there in Stiles' T-shirt and shorts, barefoot. "Is..._he_ the one who...?"

All at once, Stiles understood. "No!" He jumped up from the bed. "Chris Argent didn't...burn down the house. It wasn't _Chris_. He moved here last year with his daughter, Alison. He was...just trying to stop the killing that started...originally."

Derek seemed to calm somewhat after hearing that, but his fists remained tight. "Then..." He blinked at Stiles with eyes that were now damp. "Who?"

Stiles had foolishly hoped they could avoid this topic entirely, but of course Derek would want to know who murdered his family. The thing was, Stiles wasn't sure how much young Derek might already know. And Stiles didn't know how much worse telling him the details might make, well..._everything_.

When Stiles didn't answer right away, Derek moved around him to sit on the bed, releasing his fists finally and dropping his face into his hands while taking a few deep breaths. It was like something...practiced, like a routine. _Keeping Your Inner Wolf In Check 101_. Then Derek looked up at Stiles. His eyes were still hazel. And still damp.

"No one knew the whole truth until recently," Stiles began, moving slowly to join Derek on the bed. He left some space between them as he sat down. "I think you thought it was Chris when it happened, but...it wasn't him. It was..._Kate_. She's—"

"Kate?" Derek's eyes went wide. "Kate Argent? She...she just came to town last week. She went out of her way to tell me who she was. Not to be threatening, but..." He shook his head as it dawned on him that anything he knew about Kate was now changed. "She's been so...nice to me. Friendly. Like she really wants to get to know me."

_Like she really wants to get to know your family's schedules and the perfect time when everyone would be in the house together_, Stiles thought bitterly, but he didn't speak.

"Like...she understands there isn't anything bad about being a wolf. I always thought...that Chris was a good man, just trying to protect people. Honorable, you know? If a wolf is killing people, he _should_ be put down. Hunters can be a good thing. But my family..." Derek's eyes filled with moisture, much as he seemed to be trying to hold the tears back. "No one hurt anybody. And there were humans too. _Kids_..."

"I know," Stiles said, surprised by the softness of his own voice. "And Chris...he really is a good guy, I think. He wants to be. He maybe...forgot the honorable part for a while, that's all. Kate, though..."

Stiles had always assumed Derek and Kate had a thing back before the fire, which seemed even more plausible given that she was being friendly with young Derek from the second she came to Beacon Hills. But, for this Derek, they hadn't gotten beyond a _friendly_ first few meetings. The sexy part must have come later.

Stiles couldn't help feeling a swell of relief to know this, like it kept Derek pure or something, untainted by that conniving psycho and her poisonous touch.

Now was definitely a time when physical contact was practically mandated. Derek was sitting next to Stiles, too far away really, slouched and staring forward into space as he processed this new revelation, trying so hard not to cry.

So Stiles scooted closer. And closer. He turned, waiting for Derek to look at him, and when he did, Stiles moved in and hugged Derek as tightly as he could. _Tight_ seemed to be important in moments like this, because Stiles knew just how much a person could feel like they were falling apart. He remembered that, sometimes, his dad squeezing him so tight he could barely breathe was the only thing capable of keeping a panic attack at bay after Mom...

_Wow_, Stiles must really suck at this, because now he was crying too. Though, in his defense…only a little bit.

He quickly sniffed the tears back and put on a brave face, because Derek's stone-cold resolve wasn't as rampant right now, and clearly he needed someone else to be the strong one. Stiles could totally do that, albeit maybe not _well_.

"I wonder…how I got through this the first time," Derek whispered into Stiles' neck.

_Laura_, Stiles thought, but he didn't want to say that, because then he would have to explain how she _had_ been alive, but then Peter killed her, but Peter's on their side now and…yeah.

"I don't know," Stiles said instead, "but even if you're usually a pillar of strength, you are totally allowed to wallow for a while. For you…it's the first time _now_."

Derek took in a shuddery breath and pulled away from Stiles, though one hand remained on Stiles' knee and the other on his arm, like Derek needed to _touch_. "Thanks. It must be weird for you, since you're used to me…years past all this. I really do feel better, though…_stronger_…just being near you."

Stiles shivered. Because…there was totally a breeze in his room.

Yeah.

"Why don't we grab some breakfast and then I'll introduce you to _Ultimate Marvel vs. Capcom 3_." Stiles leaned in conspiratorially closer to Derek and whispered, "Deadpool hits opponents with his health bar."

Derek laughed. "Sweet. PlayStation 3?"

"Yep."

"You might have to help me then, since it didn't exist yet in my time." Derek's eyes were clear and his smile was blindingly genuine and sweet.

Stiles wished he could see that smile every day. "Deal."

* * *

Later, Stiles sent a text to his dad explaining that they weren't planning on going anywhere, but a few other friends were thinking of coming over for a sort of slumber party—which was so totally normal for high school students. He admitted that the group included one girl, but that they would be on their best behavior.

The Sheriff texted back not long after to say that as long as all of the parents were okay with it, he was too. Stiles figured his dad was probably just relieved he was actually asking to do something that didn't involve showing up at homicides.

After thoroughly wiping the floor with Derek at _Marvel vs. Capcom_, eating lunch, and talking more comics and bad horror movies, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd showed up, followed a little later by Scott, and finally…Jackson, which was still beyond weird for Stiles—having Jackson Whittemore in his _house_—but he was dealing.

As this seemed like a good night for pizza, Stiles made sure to order one veggie pizza for when his dad came in and inevitably stole some, and the group spread out in the living room. Since _Marvel vs. Capcom_ was still hooked up, they played a few rounds before talking shop. The clear master of the game turned out to be Isaac, and for some reason, Stiles wasn't all that surprised by this, though the fact that he mainly used Rocket Raccoon was a bit of a shock.

"So…I'm guessing Chris didn't have any insights on the witch," Stiles finally spoke up on the topic at hand. "I assume you would have opened with that if he had."

Scott shook his head, mouth full of pizza, which he only chewed halfway before speaking. "He said he knew she was around, but had been on standby since nothing bad had happened. He asked if she had done anything to the pack, and…I just said we thought she was hanging around our den and that Derek was worried. I think he bought it. He said he'd see if he could track where she was hiding out, but he didn't really have any leads."

Stiles knew he should feel disappointment. After all, Derek had lost years of his life. But…he felt a brief wave of relief instead.

"Maybe she's trying to teach Derek a lesson," offered Erica, on her fourth slice, which Stiles appreciated coming from a girl. "Once he learns whatever it is, he'll just turn back."

"But…how am I supposed to know what lesson to learn if I can't remember anything?" Derek asked.

The others all stared blankly back at him.

Then Jackson spoke up. "Maybe you're not supposed to remember now. Maybe there's a time limit, and…what happens here, when you're younger, is something the older you needs to remember once you've changed back."

Stiles could admire that Jackson knew a thing or two about secrets and lessons to be learned and…inner turmoil.

The others considered that quietly, eating their pizza, none of them certain if they should be concerned or not. Derek wasn't hurt. Their lives weren't ruined or in danger, as far as they knew, but it still seemed wrong to just sit back and accept this. It should feel _wrong_…

"I think…we should keep doing what we're doing," said Isaac, sitting on the floor beneath Derek, who was on the sofa with Stiles and Boyd. "If Argent or any of us finds a lead on the witch, great, we'll follow it. But maybe we don't have to panic. Maybe…Jackson's right, and we're just supposed to make sure…Derek is okay. Great. _Happy_. And then everything will turn out the way it's supposed to."

Stiles held back a wide grin; Isaac was such a hopeless romantic. At least now that he was a little bit back to his normal endearing self and not quite so alpha male like when he had first been bitten. Beta male? Stiles shook his head. "I like that plan," he said, smiling down at Isaac.

"Yeah," grinned Scott.

The eager agreement from everyone so had nothing to do with that fact that they all desperately needed a night off. Nope. Not at all.

Stiles had already brought the DVD down from his bedroom. He got up as everyone was finishing off the last of the pizza, and switched out _Marvel vs. Capcom_ in the PS3. "_Airplane_?" he said as he turned back to the others with a smirk.

No one argued.

* * *

They were halfway through _Cursed_—Scott's suggestion—when Stiles' dad came home, looking relieved to find Stiles actually having a normal night in with friends, and just pizza boxes, no booze or orgy happenings for him to walk in on. Like that night on the lacrosse field, the Sheriff looked proud, and Stiles let himself bask in that since he was pretty proud to be part of this pack too, even if normal came so rarely for them.

Stiles had made sure that only the veggie pizza was left by this point, which his dad reluctantly ate, and then they were all spreading out sleeping bags and pillows in a great mass in front of the TV, changing into clothing to sleep in, and settling in to watch a few more movies before they passed out.

Stiles had never had a lot of friends, so he wasn't really used to this mass bonding and just how good it felt to belong. None of them had had the opportunity to just _exist_ lately; there was always something out there trying to kill them, something to run from, something to fight. But, for tonight, wolves or otherwise, they were all just teenagers.

Leaning back against the couch, with everyone crowded in close and Derek right by Stiles' side, Stiles stole a glance at the young, dark-haired Alpha. He got the feeling that this wasn't exactly normal for Derek and his old pack either. This was just theirs.

Derek's hazel eyes met his, flickering with light from the TV screen. Some of the others were already dozing off, all of them touching in one way or another, even if only just a head lazily resting on someone else's shoulder. They hadn't really set out the sleeping bags normally; there was just a mass of blankets and comfort for them to sprawl over together.

Stiles' dad had already gone up to bed and, as the last movie ended, there was a mutual shift until everyone was lying down. With Stiles and Derek as the center point, the others all curled in close, Scott up against Stiles' back, with Isaac at Derek's back, and Erica, Boyd, and Jackson snuggled around their legs. The couch was like a giant headboard for their massive sleeping bag bed, right behind Stiles' head as he settled in to sleep facing Derek.

For a long while, Derek's eyes were open, just looking back at him with something like gratitude and blissful laziness all wrapped up in something else, something deeper. The sound of the others breathing was the perfect white noise. Stiles didn't even mind that Jackson was snuggling his thigh like a teddy bear.

Stiles fell asleep as content as he had been the night before, maybe even more so, with all of them there, but the thing that soothed him the most was Derek's closeness and the last thing he saw being those adoring hazel eyes.

tbc...

* * *

Oh, if you've never heard that Broadway 21 Guns versions, it's gorgeous, regardless of your thoughts on the message of the song. Lately, it always makes me think of Derek...especially that one part.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Longer wait again, but I think you'll find that it was worth it. :-) I do have two jobs, a husband, and an addiction to Star Wars: The Old Republic, after all. It's nice to have something just for fun like this. Thanks again for all your awesome comments!

Enjoy!

* * *

The witch was gone. They had no leads. And it was Monday tomorrow, so Derek couldn't stay with Stiles forever; his dad would get suspicious—more so than he probably already was. Although, thankfully, finding them all in their tangle of teenage limbs didn't seem as startling for the Sheriff as the previous morning, since he woke them all up with pancakes. He had actually gotten Sunday off.

Stiles' dad never made pancakes, which was such a shame, because he was spectacular at it—and only that, but hey, one talent was enough when it came to food. He was just always so busy, there wasn't time, or he and Stiles weren't on the same schedule for pancakes to make sense. They used to have monthly 'breakfast for dinner' nights, but not in a long time.

Of course he wasn't quite prepared for just how many pancakes this group could eat.

Without any leads on the witch, and it not being possible—or at least easy—for Derek to continue to stay with Stiles, they decided to all head back to the den after breakfast. Their resources were exhausted and, with everything strangely quiet for once, there wasn't much they could do.

"I'll make another sweep for Deaton. See if I can find out where he went," Scott suggested. "In the meantime I guess we just wait to see if anyone hears anything, and…make sure Derek stays safe." He flashed Derek a crooked grin above his even more crooked jawline.

Derek had seemed both fascinated and disappointed by the den when they first brought him there. Sure, in some ways it was like having a secret hideout, but it was also dark, and cold, and dirty, and not at all like a home—or the Batcave.

Now, he sat on the ratty couch next to Stiles, slumped and not nearly as exuberant. "Sure," he said. "I'm fine. I'll be…fine."

Only Stiles knew that was total bullshit. Most of the time Derek _did_ seem fine, as impossible as that should be given the circumstances, but then this was Derek, and he wasn't the type to fall apart no matter what age he was. Besides, Stiles remembered from when he lost his mom that sometimes you forgot the person was really gone, like it didn't seem real, and only when it was thrust in front of your face did you really feel the ache again. In those moments, Stiles used to just…panic, but everyday life had gone on as normal most of the time.

He knew everyone went through grieving differently, but he had a feeling that maybe being away from Stiles' house, and being in what was now Derek's…_home_, must have been one of those potent reminders.

Derek lived in an abandoned lair…because his house and everyone he loved had _burned_.

Almost as immediately as Stiles thought that, watching Derek closely in his periphery, he saw Derek hunch further and his eyes begin to water. Derek was letting the grief wash over him, and those were the moments when a person got to the point when they couldn't stop crying or…when they'd have a panic attack in the middle of a crowded store.

"Why don't we train?" Stiles suggested, knowing better than anyone that distraction was the best medicine at times like these. The others all turned to stare at him. "Well…Derek's always so serious about training you guys, right? This will be a great chance to get a different perspective. How do _you_ train to fight?" Stiles turned to Derek with a warm smile.

Derek brightened, blinking back the dampness in his eyes. "Depends on who I'm training _with_. Everyone fights differently, and it's good to change it up so you don't fall into the same patterns all the time."

"We usually just fight _you_," said Jackson.

Reigning in his warring emotions, Derek stood from the couch and pulled on a smile. "For basic training, that's fine, but you should be training with each other a little every day when you're brand new. I still usually train every day, and I was _born_ a wolf. Come here." He gestured to Jackson and the two of them moved out into the open area where Derek usually had the others doing drills.

There were mats lining the floor in this area and the occasional obstacles. Not exactly safe by normal standards, but normal people didn't have healing factors.

Jackson rolled his shoulders as they stood facing each other. "I've had the _least_ training," he said, with the usual scowl prominent on his face.

"Maybe, but Stiles said you were the most naturally athletic before being turned. Captain of sports teams. Really competitive." Derek grinned, a flash of the older Derek apparent in the familiar expression.

Jackson rolled his shoulders again, a corner of his mouth twitching up. "Yeah."

"So you should have better natural instincts, which is a good place to start." Derek hunkered down, casual as you please, and shifted, letting his claws and fangs out and for his eyes to flash red. He looked so small to Stiles, and not really threatening since he seemed to be having fun.

Stiles watched it all from the sidelines, having moved from his spot on the couch to get a better look. An evil part of him kind of wanted to see Derek toss Jackson around a little and beat some humility into him. Jackson could certainly use some. But, as soon as Jackson shifted in kind and the two of them moved toward each other, Stiles was far more pleased with Derek's actual intentions.

Jackson dove forward, blue eyes blazing and fangs bared…only to stumble into empty space where Derek had expertly danced out of the way.

"Come on," Derek said, in his wolfy growl. "What's the general rule for most sports? The best _offence_…"

"Is a good defense," Jackson said reflexively, stretching his claws and cracking his neck.

Derek nodded as they began to circle each other. "If you let yourself get hit…you've already lost." He charged forward without another word of warning, faking left, only to dash right, getting behind Jackson swift enough to lock him in a grip under his arms. "Too predictable," Derek said, and dashed away again.

Stiles had to grin. Derek wasn't training. He was _playing_. He was having _fun_. Looking down the line of wolves watching, Stiles knew that this was entirely out of character—_again_.

By the time ten minutes had passed, and Derek had bobbed and weaved around Jackson, often getting him into holds or flipping him over onto the mats, but never being caught in return, Jackson was laughing. Jackson didn't even care that he was clearly the loser, because he was having fun too.

"You have to teach me…how you do that," Jackson panted, taking a breath finally, though his eyes were still glowing blue, like he didn't want to stop.

Derek was panting too, though a little less noticeably. He shifted human and stretched his arms back, hopping up and down like he was getting high on the adrenaline. "My sister says it's because I don't over-think."

Stiles felt a little of his mirth drop and his smile fade. Derek was still a good fighter as an adult, but that part definitely wasn't true anymore. Stiles would have put money on young Derek being able to avoid a hit from older Derek easily, because the Derek that Stiles was used to over-thought everything. He was downright paranoid at the best of times. They really needed to figure out a way to break him of that.

Erica hopped off the crate she was sitting on, looking ready to jump in and challenge Derek next. She had a particularly eager expression on her face.

Before she could move out onto the mats, Isaac grabbed her arm. He had that slightly devious look on his face that had really freaked Stiles out the first time he saw it. "We wouldn't want you attempting your usual distraction tactics," he said quietly. "Might scare him away."

Erica pulled her arm back and crossed them over her chest. "_You_ should try it some time. Works wonders."

Stiles hadn't witnessed much of the wolf training, but he had a sneaky suspicion he knew what they were talking about, and the idea made him frown so hard that _Scott_ noticed.

"We could always work out a human-friendly method if you want to train too. You know…in your lacrosse pads," Scott grinned.

Occasionally, Scott did know the right thing to say to snap Stiles back to attention. He slugged Scott in the arm as hard as he could, and even though he knew it probably barely even stung, Scott played it up with an impressive grimace.

"Human-friendly," Stiles grumbled, though he was smiling again. "Just let me dust some powdered wolf's bane on my knuckles and then we'll talk."

Scott laughed. They watched as Isaac changed out for Jackson, and Derek directed Erica and Boyd to spar similarly on the opposite end of the mats. Jackson actually looked relieved to be able to rest and came to stand between Stiles and Scott.

"So…am I allowed to not want him to change back?" Jackson asked.

Immediately Stiles frowned again…because he was thinking the same thing.

* * *

By the time it was getting late enough that Stiles had to go home for some quality Dad time, especially since his dad had taken the day off for once and had promised something other than takeout for dinner, Stiles had taken to keeping score and playing cheerleader while the wolves sparred and played on the mats.

Fun as it was, there was method to the madness, because they were all loose, and not thinking too much, and actually starting to be a little unpredictable when they attacked each other, rather than trying the same old tricks. Of course a part of Stiles felt left out, how could he not? But they never really left him out, eventually using him as ref, all trying to get Stiles on their side as to who was superior.

Finally, Stiles called out to the wolves, who were now all sitting or sprawled out on the mats, exhausted. "When I start assigning you guys Fantasy Football stats, then you'll know I've become obsessed. But I gotta get home. Who's all staying here for the night?" He tried to avoid looking at Derek directly, because he was afraid he wouldn't be able to leave if he got caught by those hazel eyes.

"Me and Boyd are going to stay here with Derek," Isaac said.

That alleviated some of Stiles' unease, since there would be two others here with Derek during the night. He didn't like to think of the other boy being left alone, and it made sense that Scott, Erica, and Jackson would all be going home.

Stiles nodded and passed his gaze around the room, catching everyone for a brief nod and smile of farewell before finally resting on Derek. He faltered for a moment before taking a deep breath, trying not to be too swayed by Derek's soft smile. "You'll be fine, and tomorrow, if you want, you should come by the school. We can't exactly sneak you into class, but I'd rather you were close. To _us_! You know...not anywhere alone where the witch might come and eat you." He grinned as wide as he could manage to make the joke seem genuine rather than desperate.

Derek maintained his soft smile—so damn soft that it really was ridiculous—and nodded in turn.

"Okay..." Stiles said as he shuffled toward the door, tearing his gaze away. "Guess I'll see you guys tomorrow."

* * *

Dad time was good—really good. So good that Stiles hated himself for being so distracted with thoughts of Derek. And his dad hadn't even brought any of that up. They'd spent the night eating dinner in front of the TV, watching old episodes of Saturday Night Live—like from the 70s old, when it was really amazing. Then they'd caught up on current events with some reruns of _The Daily Show_ before the Sheriff finally told Stiles to get to bed since it was a school night.

Stiles missed having nights like that, just him and his dad not having to care about anything but the ease of being together. And, if Stiles hadn't been preoccupied with thoughts of Derek, he might have been able to appreciate it fully. He _did_, he just couldn't help wondering what Derek was doing, _how_ he was doing, and whether or not Stiles would see him the next day at school.

Not to mention whether or not they would ever be able to turn him back into a brooding adult.

The Sheriff only asked Stiles once if anything was wrong, and whether or not he guessed that the 'wrong' had something to do with the boy his son had been sharing a bed with the last couple nights, he didn't press the issue. Because he was _awesome_ like that, enjoyed their time together, and let Stiles go up to bed without any third degree.

Stiles closed his bedroom door behind him and flopped on the bed, lights still on and still in his jeans and T-shirt. He knew he should go straight to bed, but he had a feeling that he would end up staring up at the ceiling for most of the night.

_Knock. Knock._

Stiles lifted his head, knowing better than to look at his door because the sound of the knocks had been more like knocking on _glass_. He looked at his window, stunned into immobility when he saw young Derek perched outside. Stiles lifted up and pulled himself across the mattress only to midjudge his trajectory or strength or _something_ and end up tumbling off the bed to the floor.

Even through the closed window, Stiles could hear Derek laughing. If this had been the older Derek, Stiles would have scowled, but for _this_ Derek...he smiled.

Completely unruffled—he so totally was—from his fall, Stiles jumped up and opened the window for Derek to climb through.

"Do Isaac and Boyd really snore that bad?" he joked.

Derek laughed again. He was still wearing the "Han Shot First" T-shirt that Stiles had let him borrow that morning. "Couldn't sleep. I told them I was coming over here instead and they were pretty cool about it. They didn't seem all that surprised, actually. Guess they both must know what it's like to sleep in...strange places."

Stiles blinked at that explanation. So...what should have been Derek's home was a strange place to him now and Stiles' house was more like home?

Stiles cleared his throat. "Cool...that's...fine. I guess it doesn't matter as long as dad doesn't catch us and start getting the wrong idea." He laughed awkwardly—so awkwardly that someone who had failed _Acting 101_ would have noticed it was forced. "You're totally welcome to sleep here again."

Derek's bright hazel eyes glimmered gratefully, which was when Stiles finally realized how close they were standing to each other beside the window. "Thanks," Derek said. "I know I keep asking so much of you, you just...help keep me focused, you know?"

Actually, Stiles really _didn't_ know, because he felt entirely scattered around Derek, like he hadn't been on Adderall for weeks. It was awesome. "Sure. I think. Err...guess you need sleep clothes again. We should hit the hay right away since I have school."

Derek just smiled. Stiles used the moment of quiet to pull himself away from Derek's general vicinity and search out clothing for both of them to wear to bed. They had already been through this; it shouldn't feel so intimate and weird again. And yet Stiles changed into pajamas with his eyes closed the whole time.

"That was really fun today," Derek said as they were crawling under the covers—side by side again, _close_, though Derek didn't immediately snuggle Stiles like a body pillow this time. "Messing around like that really helps wolves get to know each other. Not just because of the fighting, but...the smell, the energy. I feel like I understand everyone so much better now."

"Guess I'll just have to remain a mystery then," Stiles said, meaning the comment as a joke, since he hadn't really been a part of the horsing around wolf-play, but somehow the words came out a little bitter.

Derek frowned at him. "You're different. You're human. You don't have to be part of the wolf things to be part of the pack, and I don't need to wrestle you to the ground to know you."

Stiles tried to distract his thoughts away from images of Derek _wresting him to the ground_.

"Human members of the pack can be what grounds us, especially on the full moon."

"I thought...you had, like...totems or something to focus on during the full moon. You know, some specific thing to think about as an anchor."

"Well, yeah, and sometimes that _is_ a person, especially if it's someone who believes in us." Derek turned to lie flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Intangible things don't work as well. It has to be something that represents the intangible."

"So...for example, if a wolf's anchor was..._anger_?" Stiles prompted, because Isaac had told him that story, about the first night the new wolves had dealt with the full moon, and so he knew what Derek had told them.

Derek's brow furrowed, which always made him look more like his older self. "Not my personally favorite choice for an anchor, but as an example, the wolf would need something to think about that made them _feel_ angry. You can't just think about anger in general."

"What do you think about?" Stiles didn't mean to be intrusive—he never _meant_ to be intrusive—but he couldn't held his curious nature.

"Hope," Derek said simply. "Not tied to a specific person, really, but...the dream of someone...someone just for me. Wolves mate for life, you know, but not every wolf finds their mate. That's what I kept thinking about today, even though I didn't want to." He lowered his eyes, even though he was lying down, so that it seemed like he was staring at his feet. "Kate...when she first came to town...I just felt so drawn to her, I thought maybe I'd finally found that other half of me. Thinking about it now, knowing how everything turns out, I...I know I was stupid to think that. Because...I hoped it was her, but I doubted. I wasn't sure. When it's really your mate, you know. There isn't any doubt. You just..._know_."

Stiles nodded, even though Derek wasn't looking at him. "So I guess wolves don't do much casual dating?"

The question caused Derek to chuckle, which was what Stiles had been hoping for. His eyes flicked up and over to Stiles' face, still bright in the dark. "Sure, and some wolves prefer that, rather than looking for their true mate. But I always wanted what my parents have. They always seem so happy together. They're so strong in how they lead the pack because they..._had_ each other..." He trailed, and Stiles saw that familiar wetness forming in Derek's eyes as he was reminded of the truth again, that they were gone now; everyone was gone.

Beneath the sheets, Stiles slid his hand over until he found Derek's. He squeezed Derek's wrist. "That's a way better anchor than anger," he said.

Their eyes locked, unblinking. Stiles felt Derek's hand shift until it wasn't just his wrist Stiles was squeezing, and their fingers laced together. It felt way too intimate, holding hands _in bed_ together, and with their faces so close that Derek's eyes were hypnotic.

Derek moved so swiftly that one moment, he was staring into Stiles eyes, and the next, he was _on_ him. Their hands were still gripped tight but Derek's body was closer, with his nose digging into Stiles' neck and the base of his hairline, inhaling. "Being away from you...felt like...like my chest was too tight and I couldn't _breathe_. All I could think about was seeing you again. It's like...like you're..."

"What?" Stiles questioned when Derek didn't complete the thought. Derek's nose tickled, and Stiles felt hot and anxious from their sudden closeness, but he didn't dare move—didn't want to.

Derek didn't answer, just sniffed Stiles more, nuzzling at his neck and snuggling him like he was desperate for the touch—for _Stiles'_ touch. "You smell so good..." he breathed against Stiles' neck, keeping the hand locked between them holding onto Stiles' hand, and gripping Stiles' T-shirt with the other. His hips locked into place around Stiles' thigh and he _pressed_ forward.

Stiles' gasped, because he could feel...he could _feel_...and Derek was...he was..._holy fucking crap_. "Derek…?" Stiles said, so not squeaking out the name.

Derek pressed forward again into the side of Stiles' hip, and he was so unexpectedly and undeniably _hard_. "I think...I think you're mine. Not...not like the others, but..._mine_." Derek growled the final word, like he must be halfway changed into the wolf.

Stiles shivered. He could already feel himself reacting. "Y-yours?" he said, and then jumped when Derek stopped sniffing his neck only to lick at the spot beneath his ear.

Derek lifted his head, still pressed in tight against Stiles. "_Mine_," he said again, smiling, like that answered everything. And maybe it did. He simply looked down at Stiles, hips still subtly moving and pressing into Stiles' thigh, and the hand that had been gripping Stiles T-shirt started to drift _south_.

The progression was slow, tentative, like he was giving Stiles all the time in the world to tell him to stop. Stiles' shirt was already hitched up from the way Derek had been gripping it, so Stiles gasped again when Derek's fingers traced down over his bare belly. It was when Derek kept going, heading for the soft cotton of Stiles' shorts and the newly formed bulge beneath them that Stiles acted.

Rational thought had entirely dissipated from Stiles' brain. He pulled his trapped hand from Derek's grip, grabbed either side of Derek's face with both hands, and tugged the other boy toward him until their lips met in a crash of clumsy need.

Stiles didn't even try to pretend to go for something chaste. He opened his mouth and licked his way inside of Derek's, mesmerized by the smoothness of Derek's face, the velvety warmth of his tongue, and just how pliant and willing he was to accept everything Stiles wanted. Stiles had imagined so many times what kissing Derek Hale might be like. This was so much better.

Derek's other hand paused at Stiles' belly as they kissed, nails scraping gently, _promisingly_ at the skin. "I could feel it right away," he gasped out of the kiss, speaking on, but continuing to kiss Stiles over and over again between words, "I just didn't understand...until now. I need to be around you. When I'm not…it all just creeps up again, like I'm suffocating, and I can't stop thinking about...the fire, and how everyone's gone, and…I just can't breathe. But when I'm with you, I feel like I can handle anything, like it's all going to be okay, like…I'm not broken. Like I'm..._me_."

Stiles was too stunned by this admission to say anything in reply but, when Derek kissed him again, harder this time and _deep_, he didn't struggle or pull away. He wanted to cloy Derek's dark emotions right out of him, heal him with the kiss, and make everything better. He knew it wasn't that easy, knew so well—too well—but he wanted to try. Because this was Derek, _really_ Derek, and Stiles had never really met him before. Derek was strong, and even if he was broken, that feeling wouldn't last forever.

Slowly, as they continued to kiss, Derek's hand began to move again, down over the cotton of Stiles' shorts, where slightly shaky fingers traced the outline of Stiles' cock, palmed him gently through the fabric, and _squeezed_.

"W-wait!" Stiles gasped, biting back a yelp. He was turned on so much just from their liplock, let alone Derek gyrating against his hip, and _now_... "H-Hang on...okay? We n-need to...slow down. Because I'm g-gonna come like a twelve-year-old...in about twenty seconds."

"Then do it..." Derek whispered hotly against his lips.

Stiles shuddered, because that kind of hot was so not fair. "Just...hold on a minute, okay?" He reached down and grabbed Derek's wrist, which was attached to the hand holding Stiles' cock through his shorts, and...wow—Stiles had amazing self-control, and it freaking _sucked_. "This is too fast. Too...weird. It's not like I don't...really want to, believe me, but...I just..."

Derek released Stiles and slid his hand back up to the safety of Stiles' belly. His hazel eyes looked stormy. "I'm sorry. It all just kind of overwhelmed me when I realized that you're..." He didn't finish the sentence, but the meaning was implied.

Stiles was Derek's...

Nope. Stiles could not think about that right now, because if he thought about that then he would not be able to control himself. They shouldn't do this. Not now. There were too many unknowns and complications.

Stiles really hated being the sensible one sometimes.

Derek looked lost and ashamed as he slid his hand completely away and scooted back his body. "I'm so sorry, Stiles, I just...I thought..."

Stiles grabbed Derek's face again and forced those now distant hazel eyes to look at him. "You thought _right_, dude, okay? So totally right. _I_ kissed _you_, remember? And the other evidence was pretty...apparent. I just...I feel like we should take a rain check on the finale. Just for awhile. Everything's kind of fucked up right now, and...I wouldn't want to..."

"Take advantage of me?" Derek asked with a crooked smile, leaning into Stiles' touch on his cheeks. "This isn't a soap opera," he added, "I _wanted_ to be taken advantage of. But I get that I was moving things too fast. I just have all these...intense feelings for you...and I don't know what to do with them."

Oh, Derek knew what to do with them, and it was _awesome_, but Stiles just couldn't shake the thought of older Derek coming back and kicking his ass for this—and, for the record, their lives certainly _felt_ like a soap opera half the time, especially all the Scott and Alison parts.

Stiles couldn't think about any of this right now—he couldn't _think_, and that was the problem. He didn't want to do anything he'd regret. That would ruin everything.

"You and all your feelings are very welcome here," Stiles said, "So very welcome. But can we just...put a pause on this for right now? Just a pause...not a stop."

Derek's eyes softened and he nodded, lifting his own hands up to place over Stiles' hands on his face. "Yeah. If I can kiss you again," he said, pulling Stiles' hands down and tugging to pull Stiles in closer.

This kiss was softer, unhurried and less anxious without thoughts of pushing for anything further. As much as Stiles enjoyed the taste and feel of Derek's lips, the kiss helped calm him down, and he could physically feel his pulse slowing by the time they were pulling apart.

"That's better. I thought your heart was going to explode for a second there."

Stiles laughed. Wolf cheater.

"So...should we just go to bed?"

"Yeah...we should."

"But...rain check, right?"

Stiles looked into Derek's eyes, still so close to his, their bodies touching in so many small, seemingly insignificant places that made him that much more comfortable and content. He smiled. "Definitely."

tbc...

* * *

Thanks again for reading!


	5. Hell and Damnation

I did the stupidest possible thing with my fic file on Friday. Had I not, you would have had the new chapter then.

After hours of work and 9 pages worth of content, I cut the new chapter from the original document of notes to paste into a new document. Only I saved and closed the original document with the content cut before actually pasting it into a new document. Then, as the original was closing, the window asking if I wanted to save my clipboard content came up, and being so used to clicking 'no', I did so, realizing just as I did it that it would erase my cut content and lose it forever.

Now, I should be able to just restore a previous version of the old original document to get that back, right? Only Word keeps telling me none exist. I've enabled everything that needs to be enabled, but still nothing. The IT team at my work has tried to help find where a deeply hidden previous file version might be hiding on my computer to recover, but no luck. We have exhausted all possibilities, and yeah, what an awesome IT team I have at my work for spending over an hour trying to help me recover a personal file, right?

Every time I try and rewrite the chapter, I just start crying. It was perfect, my favorite chapter so far, and I know I can't recreate it just right. I do plan to attempt to return with this fic eventually, but I need to put some distance between myself and this next chapter before I'll be capable. The last time this happened, I didn't return to the fic I was working on for a YEAR. I don't plan to take that long a hiatus, but I'll need at least a week or two.

Every ounce in me wants to scrap the fic entirely, the thought of rewriting the next chapter is so painful, but I'll try.

In the meantime, so that this has some real content, here is a Sterek drabble in honor of their resilience to win the AfterElton poll. 100 words.

* * *

Stiles doesn't know who he is anymore. He certainly doesn't recognize his life. All the scary things. All the fantastical things. Some things make him brave. Others make him feel so small, like he could never be the kind of hero his dad would be proud of.

But then there's Derek, who has always had this life of scary, fantastical things, and he's been just as often brave and terrified as Stiles. The moment Stiles knew his life would never be the same was the day Derek admitted that.

So, Stiles figures he'll keep at it. Til Hell and damnation.

* * *

tbc...soon


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Wow, are you guys amazing. Seriously. Go team fangirls and fanboys, because there was no way I was going to be able to just let this fic die after you rallied behind me. It was so hard losing something I had worked so many hours on, and that I was so proud of, but huzzah, today I return to you with that lost chapter, now rewritten.

Besides your support, which was crucial, let me tell you, the final push was that I finally got my invite to join Archive of Our Own today, and was able to start sharing fics there. If you don't know AO3, go there now, because it hosts some of the best fics around. I just never got around to becoming part of the site, and when I finally went to try, the waiting list said I'd be sitting on my thumbs until JANUARY, even with friends who are members recommending me. But today, I got the invite, made my account, and posted the first half of Perchance to Dream. Ah to share fics with more awesome people. It just gave me this great surge to write, and I flew through this rewrite much faster than I anticipated.

I hope to get through the next chapter fast as well, considering it will be wholly devoted to making this fic earn its rating. :-) Thank you all again for sticking with me during a difficult time. More soon!

* * *

Mr. Harris was the Devil. He was always a jackass, and seriously, how did that guy even get a teaching license, but on the worst of days, he was literally _the Devil_. Stiles was a good student—a straight 'A' student, even—and yet Mr. Harris still singled Stiles out more than anyone else and called him a waste of space.

Stiles was doing his best to ignore the Chemistry teacher, which wasn't difficult since his mind had been wandering all morning. Derek had snuck out early, just as Stiles was getting ready for school, though he had promised he would see Stiles later, which Stiles hoped meant Derek would take him up on his offer to crash the school. If no one noticed creepy stalker older Derek hanging around campus, they definitely wouldn't pay attention to a kid who looked like he belonged there.

And then it was, just as Stiles was half-dozing in Chemistry, with his head resting on his hand, gazing out the window into the parking lot, that he spotted said occupying figure of all his mind's attention, leaning against the side of his jeep. There were a handful of other students outside who were lucky enough to have a free period, so a handsome teen in a borrowed red hoodie didn't stand out at all. Except to Stiles.

_The hoodie_. Stiles' heart rate picked up simply from looking at the form of young Derek wearing _his red hoodie_, one of his most prized possessions, which he hadn't even known Derek had swiped. Stiles wasn't upset by this revelation at all, either, but instead couldn't help thinking about how much the sweatshirt would smell like Derek once he got it back.

Their eyes met across the parking lot into the Chemistry room, Derek probably able to hear Stiles' erratic heartbeat from all the way outside. Derek smiled, and Stiles' thoughts immediately strayed to the night before, when they had been so tightly pressed together again, they had _kissed_, and Derek's hand had trailed down Stiles' belly…

"_Mr. Stillinski_," interrupted Harris' aggravated—_aggravating_—voice.

Stiles jumped, because if he was called up to the board or something, he was so screwed. He shifted in his seat, willing his natural reaction to _go the hell back down_.

"Since you are so entranced by this beautiful _cloudy and cold_ autumn day, why don't you read starting from page 79?"

If Stiles hadn't already read the chapter on covalent bonds _three weeks ago_, he might have been ruffled, but he could answer anything Harris threw at him after he was finished reading out loud. _Dick_.

Once the mandated torture was over with, Stiles risked a quick glance outside again, no longer spotting Derek beside the jeep but on his way inside the school. Stiles' pulse quickened again. He remembered a time when his pulse would pick up upon seeing Derek for wholly different reasons. He definitely liked their new arrangement better.

Which was actually part of the problem.

* * *

Stiles finally saw Derek up close after his last class had finished while he was fishing around in his locker for his lacrosse gear. Derek was down the hall talking with Boyd, Erica, and Isaac, the same carefree and smiley version of the Alpha that Stiles had been growing so close to.

A lump formed in Stiles' throat as he watched them talking happily, casually, without any care or fear of what was to come.

"Still hot," came Lydia's apathetic voice as she leaned against the locker beside Stiles.

Stiles turned to see that Alison was also there, both of them staring down the hallway at Derek.

Alison nodded, answering with just as much detachment. "Still hot."

Of course Stiles wasn't surprised that both of them had been filled in on recent events, but their offhandedness annoyed him a little. "I'm so happy _hotness_ is the important focal point of the situation," he grumbled, dropping his remaining books into the bottom of his locker loudly after tugging his lacrosse bag out.

Lydia turned to regard him with a flip of her strawberry blonde hair. A potent stare from her still made the blood rush up into Stiles' cheeks. "Considering the way you were staring just now, I figured it _was_ the important focal point."

Her green eyes shifted from Stiles to the other end of the hall where Jackson was already heading off to practice. Lydia pushed away from the lockers with a brief but pointed final look at Stiles, before hurrying off to catch up with him.

Stiles continued staring into his locker for a moment, not really needing anything else, but not really keen on moving right away either. Then he remembered that Alison was still standing behind him. He turned to look at her and saw how much more calculating her gaze on Derek had become, like she was trying to work out some equation tattooed to the guy's head.

"Hey…you're not…planning on capitalizing on the situation in any…_homicidal_ way, are you?" Okay, so not Stiles' most subtle approach, but he had seen Alison act pretty damn psycho recently.

Alison turned, shaken from her thoughts, and her expression softened. "I'm fine. This Derek doesn't even remember anything. And…even if he did, I…I know what really happened that night with…Mom. She was trying to kill Scott, and when Derek went in to save him, the wolf's bane in the air disoriented him. He never…he never meant to bite her. He didn't even know he had. I believed him when he told me that. Besides…he didn't force Mom to make the choice she did."

_Yeah, the cowardly choice_, Stiles thought, though of course he didn't comment. Although, _cowardly_ wasn't really the right word, because Stiles was pretty sure he would never have the strength to go out that way, even if the zombie apocalypse finally descended.

"That's…good, I guess," Stiles said. "You're part of the pack, you know. And we like it that way."

An honest though small smile filled Alison's expression, and then she steeled herself, pulling on a veil of some hidden, inner confidence, and headed off toward Derek and the group of wolves since Scott had just joined them.

Once again, Stiles simply looked on, watching the way Derek moved and laughed, and then lit up when Scott introduced him to Alison.

"Let me guess…Miguel's younger brother?"

Stiles jumped—_again_. What was with everyone sneaking up on him lately? He turned to find Danny gathering his own lacrosse gear a few lockers down. "Uhh…well…"

Danny smiled in his usual knowing, charming way. "Dude, I'm just teasing you. Jackson told me everything. I didn't even know who Derek Hale was that first time you conned me. You could have told me his real name."

A small part of Stiles wanted to be pissed at Jackson for just spreading their deep dark pack secrets to all his friends, but then Stiles had already admitted to himself and others that Lydia and Danny were both more or less pack themselves. "Yeah, well…live and learn. And right now we're going with 'Joe', if anyone asks."

Danny grinned wider and nodded, shutting his locker as he hoisted his lacrosse bag over his shoulder.

Stiles shot another quick look over at the group down the hall and caught Derek staring at _him_. He immediately swallowed and licked self-consciously at his lips.

"So…_Joe_, huh?"

"Yeah."

"And you've been in love with him _how_ long?"

Stiles nearly bit his tongue, turning an unattractive gape upon Danny—and he knew it was unattractive when he gaped like that, because he looked like a suffocating fish. "Wh-what are you talking about? We're just…it's just…like…a thing. A small thing. I'm not—"

"And how long has _Joe_ been in love with you? Or should I say _Miguel_ this time, since I'm pretty sure he was giving you some intense looks back on that first day—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Stiles interrupted, holding both hands up, which unbalanced his lacrosse bag from his shoulder and nearly caused it to flop to the floor. "I wasn't even on Derek's radar before all this younger version stuff happened. You're crazy."

Danny raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah? Coz I'm pretty sure a werewolf letting you pimp him out for information is a big sign of adoration. You weren't exactly subtle in how you got me to help you out that day, and he just played along."

"He smashed my face into my steering wheel for that later."

"Oh? Did he hurt you?"

Stiles considered that and had to admit that…well, _no_. Sure, it had hurt, but if Derek had meant the attack seriously, he could have broken Stiles nose with a move like that. Stiles hadn't even bruised. It was like Derek had planned the moved perfectly to make sure Stiles mostly protected himself with his hands. Like it was all just…for show.

Against any better judgment of his own, Stiles found his eyes drifting over to the group again, not really noticing when Danny left. Derek was still casting glances at him, not at all subtly, either, and Stiles felt his knees weaken at the same time that the lump returned in his throat. He didn't want to go over to the group. He didn't trust himself with Derek in a group setting right now, for fear he'd make a complete fool of himself, because his emotions were scattered and fighting for dominance in some whirling cyclone of crazy. Part of him was just…_angry_, because after finding this feeling—the intense combination of feelings that Derek brought out in him—he didn't know if he could handle losing it.

So instead of risking humiliation or any number of other outcomes, Stiles softly said, "Hey. Can you tell Scott and the other guys to get their asses in gear? We gotta get to lacrosse practice."

Derek nodded, of course able to hear him down the hall and over the constant din of the students.

"Thanks. I'll…see you there?" Stiles asked hopefully.

Derek nodded again, tilting his head a moment as if to ask, 'What's wrong?'

"I…nothing, I just…like knowing you'll be there." And that wasn't a lie; Stiles wanted Derek to _be there_, to just…be there, with him, but he couldn't shake the fear that everything was temporary, and his crap-life would soon rear back up and take something that mattered away from him again.

Stiles hurried off to practice without looking back.

* * *

Practice was equally awesome and a total disaster. A disaster because, for the first twenty minutes, Stiles slipped and fell on his ass about ten times. The sight of Derek in the stands with Alison and Lydia turned out to be more than he could handle—at least as far as focusing any better than he normally did.

At one point he even tripped _into_ Coach Finstock, which prompted the tactless teacher to say, "Stop watching your girlfriend in the stands, Stillinski. We've got a game coming up." Which, of course, had Jackson and Scott falling over each other laughing.

Stiles didn't find it very funny.

But then, as practice continued, little by little something _amazing_ started happening. Instead of tripping over himself and acting like a complete idiot, the sound of Derek's cheers alongside Alison and Lydia's started to have the opposite effect on Stiles, and he was filled with a confidence he hadn't known since that night he scored all those goals in front of his dad. He even got a goal past _Danny_, which possibly made Stiles even prouder than scoring against an opposing team.

By the time practice was over, Stiles being on first line no longer seemed like a fleeting thing, and other players were constantly offering encouragement. Even Jackson smacked Stiles good-naturedly on the back as they were heading into the locker room.

Stiles was so high on the attention and adrenaline, he didn't notice that he was being followed until a firm hand was suddenly around his mouth and he was being pulled into the back corner by the lockers no one used. Panic flared in Stiles' chest for only a second, before his mouth was released and he was whipped around to face a smiling Derek.

"Dude, _boundaries_. Do you know how many times I've been kidnapped and knocked unconscious?" Stiles reprimanded in a hiss, though he couldn't really bring himself to be mad when Derek was looking at him like _that_ while wearing _his_ red hoodie—like he wanted to bury his nose in Stiles' hairline or…_lick him_.

"You were awesome out there," Derek beamed. "You know…once you found your feet."

"Hey! You were…distracting me."

"Yeah? Well, I can think of better methods of distraction." Derek tugged Stiles in close by the front of his jersey. "I missed you," he whispered, and before Stiles could stop him, they were kissing, hot and hurried in the dark corner of the locker room. Derek's tongue felt so _right_ against his…

Stiles snapped himself back to attention. "_Derek_," he hissed again, pushing on Derek's chest as he pulled out of their kiss. "We're surrounded by unenlightened teenage lacrosse players who do not need another reason to poke fun at me."

"I thought the goalie was gay. And everybody loves him," Derek said matter-of-factly, looking all smug with his lips slightly red and…_moist_.

"Yeah, well…_still_."

Derek just grinned wider and pulled himself in closer against Stiles, not kissing him this time, but sniffing intimately along Stiles' neck. "God, you smell amazing."

Stiles licked at the sweat on his top lip. "I just got done with practice. I probably reek."

Derek sniffed deeper behind Stiles' left ear to refute that, and his hands skimmed the edges of Stiles' jersey to the padding and skin beneath.

Stiles felt his pulse quickening again, like he was back on the field, only the blood was definitely rushing somewhere inappropriate. "Down boy," he said, pushing on Derek's chest again, though it was decidedly more unmovable this time. "Later…okay? We'll go back to my house once I'm cleaned up."

Derek pulled away finally with a quirked grin. "Really?" he asked hopefully.

"Well, not to…I-I didn't mean…you know, but…well, maybe a little." Damn, Derek made it hard to form coherent sentences. "But you're not getting anything if you don't let me change and escape the complete and utter shame of being caught back here like this, so…wait for me outside?" He contemplated batting his brown eyes at Derek, but then figured he would just look like a twitterpated Bambi, and that was not a manly expression.

After successfully dislodging himself from Derek, Stiles managed to sneak out from the unused lockers to his own without anyone noticing, though the snickers and whispers from the wolves—i.e. Scott, Jackson, Isaac, and Boyd—proved that they could probably smell Derek and knew exactly what had gone on.

Stiles pointedly ignored them. Because, despite all the negative emotions and warnings going off in the back of his brain, he liked this Derek, he _loved_ kissing him, and if he was destined to one day wake up from all of this like a dream, then he should damn well enjoy it while he had it…right?

_Right?_

* * *

Stiles had managed to banish his anxieties at least partially by the time he and Derek were heading across the school parking lot toward his jeep. Sure, there was an unspoken—well, also partially _spoken_—deal between them that their make-out session would continue once they reached Stiles' house, but for now they were chatting away like usual.

"I'm not sure Dad would be willing to give permission for a second viewing, since I went into a pretty impressive tirade on the arsenal in Dredd's gun afterward, but I'm telling you, dude, Dredd 3D was way awesomer than the Stallone version."

Derek laughed. "Awesomer is not a word."

"It is when I say it," Stiles smirked back.

They laughed together as they continued their way across the parking lot. Stiles looked ahead and noticed Alison waiting on one of the benches in front of the school just a short distance away. He waited until her eyes settled on the pair, and then waved.

Instantly, Alison's eyes filled with fear. Stiles couldn't fathom why she would react that way…until her father's black SUV pulled up between them, only a few yards away.

Stiles froze in place, heart rate jumping through the roof as the vehicle came to a stop and _Chris Argent_ casually climbed out to approach his daughter.

"Ready to go, sweetheart?"

Alison was an angel, a god damn angel, because she pulled on a smile and swiftly nodded, hurrying for the SUV before Chris could turn and see—

"Chris?"

_Fuck_.

Derek's small voice cut through the air—and through Stiles' shaken resolve—like a knife. Stiles could see the way the unexpected voice startled Chris, probably with _recognition_, even before he started to turn. As soon as those intense blue eyes landed on young Derek, Chris' expression fell into a very rare look of shock, and Stiles knew that Chris was aware of exactly who he was looking at.

Bless Derek, for all his stupidity for opening his mouth. Stiles didn't dare move, didn't know what to say or even how to speak just then.

"Derek…?" Chris gasped in disbelief, and then the gears started working _visibly_ behind Chris' eyes as his sharp hunter brain put recent events together. "The witch…" he said. "It would seem Scott conveniently forgot to mention a few things."

"Look, Mr. Argent," Stiles tried, holding his arm up just slightly as if to guard Derek behind him, "I know you don't exactly trust Derek these days, but—"

"He doesn't?" Derek interrupted, his voice softer still and concerned. Then, obviously devoid of any sense of self-preservation right now, he stepped _around_ Stiles until he was in front of him. "You don't?" he addressed Chris directly. "But…what did I do?" Derek paused for a moment, and then Stiles imagined a light coming on behind his eyes. "The fire…" he whispered, still looking at Chris. "I blamed _you_. But…I know it wasn't you now. You're a good man. My parents always said so. I know you didn't do it. I'm sorry…I'm so sorry. We're…" he took a step closer to Chris, "…we're okay now, though, right? Stiles said you help us sometimes. Everything's…okay now?"

Part of Stiles wanted to grab Derek by the shoulders, pull him into the nearby jeep, and run. But Chris didn't look at all trigger happy. He looked…haunted. He looked ashamed. He looked like…like he was seeing everything Stiles had been seeing lately, and was remembering just how good of a boy Derek had been…but wasn't allowed to remain after all the horrors that had happened to him over the years with so little to hold onto.

And Chris knew—Stiles could see it on his face—that even if it wasn't his fault directly, there was still so much blame to go around.

"Yeah…" Chris said softly after a long pause, nodding and allowing his shoulders to relax. "We're okay. I'll…I'll see if I can get more men on tracking down the witch. We'll…we'll fix this," he said, nodding again, like he was trying to convince himself that someone he could actually _fix_ this—fix Derek.

But Derek didn't understand why there was a heaviness that settled in Chris, much the same as one was settling low in Stiles' gut too, he just stepped those last few paces forward and held out a hand. Chris took it, shook it, and they parted amiably, with Derek smiling wide enough to split his face when he finally turned back to Stiles. Alison was smiling too, because she didn't get it. She _couldn't_ get it.

But Stiles did. And he wanted to _scream_.

* * *

Stiles clenched his steering wheel too tightly the entire short drive to his house, unable to look at Derek or even speak. Derek didn't push or ask what was wrong until they had entered the house—which was blessedly empty of the Sheriff, since he was still at work—and they climbed the stairs to Stiles' bedroom.

Stiles threw his book bag onto the floor, feeling hot, and so angry, like he wanted to just _hit_ something.

"Stiles…?" Derek finally spoke to break the tension. "Is everything okay? Why are you so upset?"

"_Why_?" Stiles shot back, whipping around and feeling the weight of all his emotions surging through him like he might literally explode or fall prone to a panic attack at any moment. "Because it's not fair! It's not real! This isn't really _you_!"

Derek's eyes drooped, and he stood frozen and ashen in front of Stiles, which immediately made Stiles want to take it all back.

He pressed his nails into his scalp and dragged them back through his short hair. "I mean…I know it's _you_, the real you, the way you were when you were sixteen. But at twenty-three, you're broody and angry, a huge loner most of the time, emotionally disconnected, incapable of trusting anyone, even within your own pack, and damn it, you _earned_ that. It's your life and years got taken away from you and it's not fair. It's not fair because…I know this will all go away when you remember it all and turn back into that older you. Even getting to see you smile and have the chance to handle all that awful loss a little better, I know it's only a matter of time…before you're Sourwolf again. I want to give in and just enjoy whatever this is," he gestured vaguely between them, "but if I do…twenty-three-year-old you is going to _kill me_ when he gets back and it's just going to be so much…_harder_."

The reaction Stiles expected from Derek was mirrored anger and grief, maybe for Derek to yell back at him until an impressive screaming match erupted, but that didn't happen. Derek just smiled. "It won't be like that, Stiles, even if I do change back."

"Derek…"

"You're mine. You're my _mate_, Stiles. I can smell it. _Feel_ it." He crossed the room until he was right in front of Stiles, and his arms came up to grip Stiles' shoulders. Stiles was entranced by the intensity and lack of anger or grief in Derek's hazel eyes. "Don't you understand what that means? It means the older me knew too, maybe from the first second he met you. And maybe…maybe he pushes you away because…you're younger and he's scared and it's all been so complicated, but he _knows_. The scent of you…drives me crazy. It's what I've always wanted—someone just for me, like what my parents had, like what some wolves spend their whole lives looking for. A true mate is the one person who was made just for us. And you're mine…"

Stiles swallowed low in his throat. Licked his lips. _Breathed_. "But…"

"But nothing. If I know it now then I'll know it at any point in my life, no matter what happens from here on out. And besides, what if there is no way to turn me back? What if this is just it, both of us sixteen and getting this chance to do things better a second time around? Because if it is…I don't want to waste a single moment."

Then, right there in Stiles' bedroom, with so much emotion pulsing between them, and so many uncertainties waiting in the wings, Stiles realized…he could let it all go. He could let it all go _easily_, when Derek gripped the back of his neck and _kissed_ him.

And the last thing he wanted was to stop at a simple kiss.

tbc...

* * *

Who requested for Derek to run into Chris? I can't remember, but you deserve kudos, coz that was all for you!

Also, see Dredd 3D if you like good comic book adaptations and excessive violence. One of the best films of the year, and it's doing terrible at the box office. Seriously, see it, or it won't get a sequel! Karl Urban's got that strut DOWN.

~Crimson


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: And...porn. :-)

* * *

Kissing Derek was so surreal. There were these two overlapping figures of who Derek was, intermingled in Stiles' brain: young Derek, who kissed soft and slow, like he only had a little experience but was fully confident that he could give Stiles what he wanted—he _cared_ about what Stiles wanted. Then there was older Derek, always present in Stiles' mind, because he had known Derek first, known him longer, and he wondered—hoped—that older Derek would kiss like this too, maybe a little firmer, with even more confidence because he was freaking Derek Hale, but still, like _this_—like nothing in the world was more important than Stiles.

Derek tasted sweet and fresh—untainted. He slipped his hands around Stiles' waist, right around the edges of his shirt, the way he had in the locker room with Stiles' jersey, teasing the skin beneath. Stiles reached out to do the same, feeling his own red hoodie and the soft, thick fabric before he pushed his fingers up underneath and felt up along Derek's lightly muscled stomach.

Derek hissed.

"Ticklish?" Stiles asked against Derek's lips.

"Sometimes. A little," Derek whispered back.

"I love learning new things about you," Stiles sighed, leaning his forehead against Derek's as they caught their breaths. It was still so strange to stand like that with Derek and have Derek be that slight inch shorter than him. "I just…want you to remember this, if…I…I want you to _remember_."

Derek silenced him with another kiss, just a chaste capture of lips. Then his hazel eyes fluttered open and he stared into Stiles' warm brown that were so close. "We've known each other for…for months, right? I know for me…_this_ me…it's only been a few days, but…being with you…feels like I was always here, like _you_ were always here, like…"

"Like maybe we did this all before in another life, it's so damn easy?"

"Yeah…" Derek smiled, wide enough to show his crooked canines. "My mom says…that's what it feels like…when you find your mate."

Stiles swallowed, trying to think of how to calm himself down enough to not screw this up. He leaned back just slightly, his hands settled comfortably now on Derek's bare waist beneath the hoodie and borrowed T-shirt. "So…if I'm your mate…how does…you know…maintaining the pack work?"

Derek's brow furrowed, not understanding.

"You know…it's not like…we can have puppies," Stiles explained awkwardly.

Realization dawned and Derek laughed. "Maintaining the pack doesn't just mean…puppies," he said, only scrunching his face in distaste a little at the reference. "The pack can grow in all sorts of ways. Like the Bite. I'm covered—I have my pack. It's not about taking over the world, you know. It's about building a family and taking care of each other. I think this pack is doing a pretty good job of that so far."

Stiles could think of a few examples of how they so weren't—but then, given the circumstances, they should all be dead or worse by now, so he supposed they were doing pretty damn good.

He also had to stop and ponder for a moment that Derek had basically just confirmed that same-sex couples were totally A-Okay in wolf packs, because…puppies and the Bite basically came down to the same thing—more wolves—so the details didn't matter. The rest was just…fate. This was _fate_.

"And I don't…have to be a wolf, too?"

"Not unless you really want to be, but…I kind of like you just the way you are."

Stiles' fingers faltered on Derek's skin, and he squeezed a little when he resettled his grip, like he needed to be sure Derek was real. He'd never thought anyone would like him _just the way he was_—not even Scott or Dad.

Slipping one hand around to the dip in Derek's lower back, Stiles tugged Derek closer again, pressing firm against his lips and going in all the way—deep—to feel the heat of his mouth and tongue. Derek was always so _warm_. Stiles felt warm now, too, so warm…

Using his grip on Derek to turn them, Stiles pivoted and swayed into position, before he finally pulled out of the kiss again and pushed on Derek's chest so that he fell onto the edge of the bed. Derek looked pleasantly surprised as Stiles climbed onto his lap, knees bent and thighs settling on either side of Derek's hips. They were both already firm and straining against the constriction of the denim between them.

Stiles sighed deeply as he settled into place, taking Derek's face in his hands and pulling their lips together again. "I've always wanted to do this…" he whispered, just before their lips met. He _had_, too. With Derek—older Derek. He'd imagined it so many ways. Derek in Stiles' passenger seat in the jeep; Derek in Stiles' desk chair; Derek on the veterinary exam table; and so many other scenarios where Stiles would just climb onto Derek's lap, into Derek's _life_, and lay claim.

Little mules of pleasure formed in Derek's throat as Stiles rocked their hips together. Sure, Stiles had envisioned other scenarios, where Derek pushed him up against hard surfaces and had his wicked way with him, but…Stiles preferred this, preferred the part of Derek that would surrender and let someone else do all the work for a change, which Stiles knew—he _knew_—was still inside of the older Derek somewhere.

But young Derek was here now, and he gave in completely, without even a raised eyebrow of protest. He slid his hands around to Stiles' back, to the edge of his jeans, and slipped inside Stiles' boxers to the soft skin and curve of his ass beneath.

Stiles was so in over his head. He wanted this, all of it, right now, and no sensible part of his brain was functioning anymore to stop him.

His breath came in heavy pants when he let his lips rest, forehead against Derek's again as he unzipped the hoodie and pushed it from Derek's shoulders. The shirt underneath said 'DON'T PANIC'.

_Damn _Hitchhiker's_ and its perfect timing_, Stiles thought.

"Stiles…" Derek breathed out, pupils blown and cheeks flush as he looked up at him.

"Umm…you've…done this before, right?"

Derek smiled and shook head.

_Crap_, that meant Kate had been his first. That meant…Stiles could be Derek's _first_.

Stiles stared at the words on Derek's shirt and tried to take them to heart, taking in slow, deep breaths.

"Stiles…it's okay," Derek said, slipping his hands out of Stiles' jeans and pulling Stiles closer by the waist. "I want to. I _want_ to. Please…"

Everything in Stiles' brain was rapidly turning to mush. He tried to think through the process for this. Step 1) remove clothes. Step 2) touch Derek _everywhere_. Step 3) lube.

Did he have anything for lube? Then Stiles remembered the warming oil he had originally gotten for a banged up shoulder after lacrosse practice—that's totally what it had been for _originally_. He may have found other uses since.

"You aren't required to do complex physics equations, you know," Derek smiled up at him.

Stiles focused on the matter at hand, on Derek's _hands_ on his waist, and his hands on Derek's shoulders. His jeans felt painful; he wanted to take them off—_right now_.

Deciding against any attempt at coherence, Stiles opted for a returned smile, and went for the hem of the 'DON'T PANIC' T-shirt, lifting it over Derek's head and off. Stiles tore his own shirt off as well, tossing it behind him somewhere into the abyss of the room. Derek was a little more filled out than Stiles was, but Stiles didn't feel as skinny or scrawny as he had always imagined he would in comparison to the older Derek. He actually felt pretty good, considering Derek stared at his bare chest like it was a tasty treat.

Derek took the initiative and pulled Stiles' into an embrace, nuzzling his nose into the base of Stiles' hairline, which was strangely familiar and comforting. Then Stiles peeked down over Derek's shoulder at his back, and grinned a little—the tattoo was there, but Stiles wondered if Derek even knew about it, since he had always assumed it had been something Derek got done later in life…in memoriam.

Stiles wanted to press his hips down into Derek's, but his jeans were too tight; he had to get out of them. "Slide back," he said, and they scooted up the bed, disentangling from each other to undress the rest of the way, only Stiles wasn't fully prepared for Derek to just…slide his shorts right down with his jeans, exposing his very prominent hard-on to the room, with only a small dusting of dark hair trailing up to below his navel.

Derek laid there, propped up on his side, wholly comfortable being naked, while expectantly watching Stiles shimmy out of his jeans beside him. Stiles was lying on his bed next to a _naked_ Derek Hale. He quickly pulled his shorts off too.

It was weird, and so awkward, and Stiles thought he might have a stroke with how his heart was racing. But then Derek reached for his face, bringing the attention back to their eyes and just _them_, there together. Derek kissed him, deeply again, like he wanted to climb right inside of Stiles, and really, that didn't sound bad at all. Their bodies formed together naturally, like some magnetic pull, and the clashing of their erections made Stiles' shudder.

Stiles had to do something or he'd lose his nerve—maybe his mind. So he pressed a palm to Derek's chest and let his hand drift slowly lower, reminiscent of last night, when Derek had trailed bold fingers over Stiles' then still covered cock. Derek's skin was burning hot when Stiles' reached below his waist and wrapped his fingers tight.

"_Stiles_," Derek said in protest, or maybe just surprise, bucking forward into Stiles' hand.

"I can't believe I'm touching you…" Stiles murmured aloud, staring down the length of their bodies at how they were tangled, and how his hand was—

"Well…_touch_ me, then."

—not moving, but _should_ be. "Sorry," Stiles said, since he didn't know what else to say, but at the same time, he let his hand move, loosening and then tightening his fingers, and _stroked_.

The gasp Derek released was the most beautiful sound.

Stiles continued on, trying to think of this in the same way as when he touched himself, imagining the speed and tightness _he_ liked, and applying that to Derek. It definitely seemed to be working, but Derek was too dry, even with leaking precum helping Stiles' strokes, so he removed his hand and lifted it to his mouth to lick a strip of wetness.

Suddenly, Stiles tongue was in Derek's _mouth_ instead of licking his own palm, and he didn't really know how that had happened, but his hands were pinned up by his shoulders, and Derek's body was half sprawled atop his with Derek's now familiar firmness pressing into Stiles' thigh. The precum that remained on Derek made Stiles' skin itch as he thrust against him.

Derek pulled away to let Stiles gasp for breath only to slither down his body, low enough that Derek's head was…was...his _lips_ were…

"_Shit_, you're…gonna kill me, I swear," Stiles gasped out. "Seriously, you don't…you don't _have_ to…"

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek said with his wide grin, and somehow it was such a normal _Derek_ thing to say that Stiles imaged the older Derek there, lips parting as they descended on him, and…it wasn't heartbreaking or nerve-wracking to think that way. Stiles didn't want one or the other version of Derek—he just wanted _Derek_, and everything that entailed.

Derek's naturally higher temperature meant that the inside of his mouth was just…_hot_, making the heat in Stiles' belly grow too hot too fast to match it, and he had to struggle to keep his hips from surging upwards. He glanced down again to find Derek's eyes closed, but when they opened…they flickered red, as he inhaled deeply of the hairs at the base of Stiles' cock. If Derek had a thing for Stiles' scent then that was definitely where it was most concentrated.

Seeing Derek so enthralled by what he was doing made the whole act that much sexier. And the more Derek's mouth wrapped around him, with Derek's tongue stroking at the underside of his cock, the more Stiles just wanted to grab Derek and…and…

Stiles gripped Derek's shoulders tightly, urging him to look up. "In…in the drawer…there's…" He nodded, as if that alone finished his sentence, which it seemed to, since Derek nodded in reply.

Leaving Stiles' body unfairly cold on the bed, Derek crawled over and opened the drawer in the nightstand, smiling when he found the small bottle with an orange cap and held it up.

"I had this…shoulder injury…"

Derek eyed Stiles with humored skepticism.

"It's been useful," Stiles added. "Come here…" He reached for Derek, urging the other boy to return to his side. Stiles didn't know how to make this next decision, so he was glad that Derek had the lube and would have to make the decision for them.

Which was why it surprised Stiles and sent a little jolt of electricity down his body when Derek pressed the bottle into _his_ hand. Stiles licked his lips—stared at the bottle. He opened it and poured some into his hand like he had meant to lick his palm before, and immediately reached down to grip Derek with the silky liquid. It was warming oil, and Derek was already so _hot_.

Stiles turned in toward Derek, scooting closer, and let his erection slide against Derek's and into the heated oil. He wanted to just rut forward into that sweet friction, harder and harder until he came.

"Stiles…" Derek said softly, gently taking Stiles by the wrist. "It's okay." He pulled Stiles' hand lower, past the velvety skin beneath his cock…to the waiting opening between his legs.

Stiles' heart rate slowed—maybe stopped. He hadn't anticipated this. At the end of the day, he had always assumed their positions would be reversed. Because…because he trusted Derek, and he just wasn't used to the idea of Derek ever being trusting enough of someone else for…_that_. Not that Stiles was about to argue.

He let his fingers, which were already coated in the oil, press gently against the small, budded entrance. He kept his eyes locked on Derek's as he pressed a finger inside, mesmerized by the whole idea of what they were about to do, and how Derek's brow scrunched, and then relaxed, and then his eyes rolled back as Stiles stroked his finger along a curve.

The tight space was so smooth, made slick by the oil, and stretched wider at a slow but steady pace as Stiles worked his finger around. The angle was difficult, but he wanted to be able to keep contact, their erections both pressing into each other's hips as he kept his hand wedged between them…and slipped a second finger in.

Derek moaned and moved in time with Stiles' internal strokes, the oil making them slippery and sticky everywhere below their waists. Eventually Stiles pulled his hand away, adding more oil to his hand and coating himself with tender tugs—since he didn't trust that a few good pulls wouldn't send him right over the edge.

When Stiles was ready, and Derek looked _so_ relaxed and ready, Derek rolled onto his stomach and lifted his hips. The very position—seeing Derek Hale in _that_ position—sent little quivers through Stiles belly. He lifted up onto his knees behind Derek. At first, just to check how prepared Derek was, Stiles returned his two fingers and worked them around, amazed at how much more open Derek felt simply by being in this new position. He slipped in a third finger, confident that Derek was well-prepared, even if Stiles wasn't entirely sure if _he_ was prepared, because this was _him and Derek_, and under these crazy circumstances, neither of them had ever done this before, and if Stiles took too long to think about all the reasons this might not be a good idea, he would totally lose his nerve.

So he didn't think, he just pressed himself against Derek and pushed in, slow and agonizing once the tightness started to surround him. He listened for Derek's breathing, for every sound Derek was making to be sure it was still okay. Derek gasped and moaned and finally pleaded with Stiles to just _do it_, and there was a growl tinging his voice right up until a roar left him as Stiles stroked home.

Stiles formed himself over Derek's back, pressed his face against the tattoo, and breathed in, feeling the dampness of Derek's skin, and the intense heat between them that was almost more than he could bear with the added warming oil. Then, gripping Derek's hips, he pulled back…and pushed in again, starting a steady rhythm that he kept tight control over in case Derek made any noise or gesture to indicate he wasn't enjoying this.

Stiles had to grin at the constant stream of '_very much enjoying this'_ that soon started falling from Derek's lips. Making Derek moan and ramble out incoherent mumblings of words and, occasionally, Stiles' _name_ was like no other ego boost in the world. And Derek felt amazing. The tightness, the heat, the ease with which they connected…

Letting his hand trail over the tattoo a moment, Stiles' returned both hands to gripping Derek's hips, feeling the moment of completion already rapidly approaching—he was just happy he had lasted this long. But he wanted to know if Derek was there with him.

Reaching around Derek's hips with one hand, Stiles found Derek's oily and super-heated cock with his fingers, only wrapping them tight for a moment and pumping once before Derek's breath hitched, and Stiles felt added heat strike his hand.

Stiles grinned wider, lifted up again, and let his pace pick up. He was still conscientious of Derek, still struggling to not be too rough, but even after having already come himself, Derek moaned loudly in response to every thrust, and Stiles was soon spilling out his release too.

He collapsed against Derek's back, feeling sticky and exhausted. "You know…" Stiles said, "…I think…you might be the best thing…that ever happened to me."

They panted together a bit longer, until they had the strength to roll into positions next to each other on the bed. Derek's hazel eyes looked back at Stiles with such adoration, Stiles felt his heart beat stutter.

Derek's smile was so sated—so _happy_. "I think I love you too," he said.

tbc...

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As much as I was looking forward to writing that, I'm really looking forward to the last two chapters. :-) More soon!

~Crimson1


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: So...I'm a firm believer in letting your characters lead you, so you can totally blame them for all the angst. I was originally planning for this to go very differently, but I think I like it. Rest assured, there is still at least one more chapter after this. :-)

* * *

Stiles hummed as the warm water from the shower rushed over his sore muscles and sticky skin. He and Derek had more or less wiped themselves clean the night before, then had finished their night with a few more issues of _Marvel Zombies_ and some _True Blood_ episodes, since Stiles had promised Joe Manganiello all those days ago. Finally, they had fallen asleep early, before Stiles' dad had even gotten home.

Sure, his dad had probably checked in on them and noticed that 'Joe' was sleeping in Stiles' bed again, but his dad was currently still asleep while Stiles got ready for school, so there was always that chance he could avoid the coming 'talk' until another day. Not that he felt guilty, or regretful—not at all. That kind of surprised Stiles, but…he really didn't feel anything but contentment.

He spent his time in the shower thinking of how they could make this sixteen-year-old Derek transition more permanent. It couldn't be too hard to get Derek enrolled at school. It's not like Stiles hadn't forged paperwork before. Derek could stay at the den some nights and…probably with Stiles other nights, and they could make it work. They'd all be legal adults soon enough anyway. And, in the meantime, the pack would be that much stronger, Stiles was sure of it. Besides, weird as it still was for Stiles to think about most days, there was always _Peter_ to be the adult in the pack, once he returned from dealing with the Alphas.

Explaining the situation to Peter was going to be…interesting.

But Stiles didn't want to think about that right now, or any other hurdles. He felt amazing. His chemical balance was still highly skewed in the 'pleasure zone' direction, and he was fine with that. He had actually had sex last night. With _Derek_. Life couldn't get any better.

Stiles was still all smiles when he returned to his bedroom, changed for the day, with his short hair already almost dry. Then he saw Derek, who had showered first and was wearing yet another borrowed outfit from Stiles, sitting on the edge of the bed holding Stiles' phone.

He wasn't smiling.

"What's up?" Stiles prompted, hurrying over to the bed and letting his damp towel slip from his fingers to the floor. "Who—?"

"Scott…texted you," Derek choked out—_choked_, like there was something caught in his throat. He kept his hazel eyes on the carpet. "Chris found the witch. Well…not _found_, but…they know she's in the woods, near my…what's left of my house. They're going to try closing in on her today. I…I'm supposed to meet them out there."

Stiles' happy homemaker daydream crumbled around him and he felt a leaden weight settle in his chest and stomach. He had honestly thought that the witch was gone, that this might actually turn out to be permanent. He was such an idiot.

With as little strain as he could manage, Stiles pulled on a smile, slipping his hand to rest over Derek's, which were both still clutching Stiles' phone. "Hey…it's okay. Finding her doesn't mean—"

"It doesn't mean I'll change back," Derek finished for him, finally glancing up and to the side at Stiles, low from beneath his long, dark lashes. "I know. And even if I do…" He sat up straighter suddenly, and let Stiles' phone tumble to the carpet as he grabbed Stiles' hands in his. "I'll remember. And it'll _matter_. This matters to me. So much…I…I refuse to believe anything else."

Derek had seemed so sure last night, but Stiles' wasn't surprised to find that he was a little worried, too, that maybe this could all unravel.

Stiles grabbed the front of Derek's T-shirt. "And hey…if it turns out otherwise…I'll just key your Camaro."

Derek's eyes scrunched, then widened as he chuckled. "Wait…that Camaro at the den is _mine_?"

Stiles laughed, but it was strange how the sound and action didn't really bring much humor with it.

They went for each other at the same time, Stiles tugging Derek closer by the grip he had on Derek's shirt, and Derek grabbing either side of Stiles' face, until their lips met. It shouldn't feel this desperate, this intense and Broadway musical easy—people didn't really fall in love like this, did they? Maybe with wolves, with mates, it was different, Stiles didn't know, but he knew that kissing Derek felt like breathing, and being without him felt like drowning, and he'd had enough of Derek Hale and _drowning_ to last a lifetime.

* * *

It was clearly a conspiracy—time was moving at half-speed today, no joke. Stiles tapped his pen against his Economics book, watching the clock, like he had been all day. He hated that Chris Argent was so much better at this crap than they were. He had insisted that only Alison, Scott, and Derek join the hunters in the woods, because all of them being missing from class at the same time would garner too much suspicion.

Well…_yeah_, but damn it, Stiles wanted to be there. He could tell that Isaac, Erica, and Boyd all felt the same way whenever he saw them in class or in the halls, but there was nothing any of them could do until the bell rang.

Stiles had been receiving periodic updates from Scott or Alison all day, which didn't tell him much, other than that they were closing in, but playing it safe to make sure the witch didn't get away. It was taking all freaking day to track exactly where she was in the woods and corner her effectively, and Stiles was already losing his mind over thoughts about just what would happen if and when they caught her.

Finally, the last bell rang, and since Stiles had no plans to attend lacrosse practice, no matter what Chris had said, he bolted for his jeep. He wasn't really surprised that all three passenger doors open and slammed shut again with the arrival of the wolves before he could pull out of the parking lot. Seeing their eager faces was comforting—it felt right for the whole pack to be in on this together, even if they had to suffer the complications of teenagerdom.

Derek needed them, and that was just the end of it.

Stiles knew the road to the Hale House woods so well…it was kind of creepy actually how naturally he drove there without even really thinking about what turns he was taking. He knew just where the hunters would have parked, too, and found them easily, spotting Chris' SUV as the most familiar, and parking alongside it.

No one was around to tell them where the hunting party had gone, but before Stiles could question the wolves on what might be the best course of action, they all shifted into their snarly selves and went dashing into the trees in opposite directions.

The most awful sense of déjà vu surged through Stiles as he stood there by the cars, alone, wondering where his pack was, and having no real assets he could offer in this fight. He wasn't a wolf or a hunter. He didn't have any skills that could aid in a fight like this. But he couldn't just hold back, either. He wasn't the freaking getaway driver!

Stiles paced in front of his jeep, thankful that it was still light enough out that he could see through the trees a ways, but he didn't see anyone heading his direction. They were all deep in the woods somewhere, and once again, he was the odd man out.

_Screw that_.

Hurrying around to the back of the keep, Stiles threw the hatch open and grabbed the baseball bat he had tucked under the seats. Weapons of choice in hand, he made a quick circle to get his bearings, and then dove into the trees. He knew the road to the woods well enough, but the woods themselves were a labrynth, and yet…somehow he felt assured that he was going the right way—toward Derek, though not necessarily toward the witch.

Stiles' phone buzzed in his pocket. He paused to look, finding a message from Alison that they were certain they were only minutes from having the witch. Stiles texted back that he and the others were there and heading into the trees, so if anything bad went down…_yell_. Stiles didn't bother to check his phone again, even after it buzzed a few more times. He could feel Derek only a few yards ahead.

That realization brought Stiles up short. He could _feel_ Derek—where Derek was. He had never experienced that before. They hadn't really discussed much more about the whole mate thing, but Stiles was starting to wonder if…consummating the relationship came with a few extra perks—and the initial perks had been pretty damn awesome all on their own.

Dismissing this new revelation, Stiles barreled ahead, toward the dull pulse of _Derek_ urging him through the trees. He rushed through a final dense patch into a small clearing…and there he was—Derek, alone, sniffing along the perimeter in all his wolfed out glory.

He turned with a start toward Stiles, as if he had been sniffing out _him_, seeming just as stunned by whatever new connection this was between them. Then he smiled, and even though the grin held fangs, it was gorgeous.

"Stiles," Derek said in a hushed tone as he shifted human, "what are you doing here? We almost have her."

"I know. Alison told me, but…I needed to be here."

They met in the center of the clearing, and Derek glanced down at Stiles' bat in amusement.

"Hey, some of us don't have claws," he shrugged.

Derek nodded, like it was a good idea, regardless of how it had made him smirk.

A part of Stiles wanted to embrace Derek, or maybe steal a quick kiss, but that was just the kind of distraction that would end them up in a boiling _cauldron_, so he thought better of it.

"Chris had everyone make a wide perimeter, and we've been slowly closing in. I can _smell_ her now, not far from here." Derek looked unsure as he spoke, though not unsure of his senses.

Stiles gripped Derek's arm and squeezed, just for a moment. "It's okay," he said, and a million other words bubbled up in his brain, but none of them were really all that comforting, so he just smiled and stepped back, gesturing for Derek to lead the way.

Stiles held the bat at the ready, and Derek returned to his wolfish form, as they made their way along the clearing's edge and then into the thick of trees again. They soon came upon a natural winding path, narrow, but wide enough that there was room for another two people between them, as they walked on either edge to better keep their eyes open for any signs of the witch.

Of course, Stiles had no idea what she actually looked like. It had always been just a sense of her, and that one brief moment when Stiles had heard her voice. If he saw her through the trees, would he even know her versus one of the random hunters Chris had brought along?

Another clearing started to open up in front of them, and just as Stiles was stepping into it, he heard Derek hiss, "Stiles, stop!"

A chill raced up Stiles' spine as he froze in place. He looked ahead…and there she was.

"So _you're_ the cause of all this trouble," she said, just standing there in the center of the new clearing, arms folded. She looked so normal. She looked like she could be an older sister or cousin of Lydia's, actually, which Stiles tried really hard not to focus on, but he couldn't help it whenever he saw strawberry-blonde hair.

Her reddish curls hung long about her shoulders, her blouse bedazzled pink with a pink leather jacket, and jeans—which were thankfully blue. She really did paint a sort of modern portrait of Glinda, which made Stiles wonder if the whole look was on purpose, a ruse, and not how she really looked at all.

Derek and Stiles both slowly entered the clearing, parting at the opening to come at her from either side, without even having to explain anything to each other—Stiles just knew what Derek wanted him to do, which was seriously awesome.

"Uhh…aren't I supposed to be saying that to you…_Glinda_?" Stiles shot back at the witch, holding up his bat as menacingly as he could. He was careful not to get too close to her, and made a quick sweep of his eyes to see if any of the others were nearby, but it was too dark now to see very far through the thick trees.

Glinda grinned—since Stiles had decreed that that should officially be her name from now on. "Now, now…I was only trying to help." Her green-eyed gaze flicked from Stiles over to Derek on her other side. "I think you've learned enough now…Derek Hale. But will it _stick_…?" She raised a hand toward Derek, who looked feral and menacing with a snarl on his face and his red eyes flashing. But he immediately clutched his chest and began to scream as she curled her outstretched fingers into a fist.

Stiles instinctively flinched forward, meaning to move to Derek's side, but the witch turned back to him and shot her other hand in his direction.

"I don't think you want to interfere right now, sweetheart."

Stiles hesitated, but Derek was hunched over on the ground now, still screaming, keening out this awful howl. Stiles didn't know what to do, but he knew he couldn't just stand there, so he rushed forward toward the witch with his bat, and started to swing.

She waved her outstretched hand like swatting a fly and, before Stiles could get the bat all the way around, he flew backward, landing hard against a tree before crumbling to the ground, winded. He struggled to roll over onto his back, gasping up at the dark sky and the dizzying sway of leaves, the bat lost somewhere nearby.

"Stiles!" Derek called after him, his voice a strange mixture of that pained howl, the way younger Derek normally sounded, and…a little bit of older Derek too.

Stiles' vision continued to blur around him as he blinked skyward, trying to force his breath to return and his mind to clear so he could sit up and _do something_. Distantly, he could hear Derek still whimpering in pain, then there was a disturbance of leaves, and thuds, like Derek and the witch were fighting, but Stiles still couldn't quite move.

When Stiles finally thought he could roll over and push up onto his knees, he heard a louder thud nearby and suddenly…Derek was rolling into him, half like he had been thrown there, and half as if he was trying to protect Stiles. Derek ended up sprawled over Stiles' still prone body, hands on either side of Stiles' shoulders, holding himself up.

Stiles gasped as his vision began to clear, and the first thing he saw was hazel, and then…_stubble_. He realized just how much of the sky was being blocked by Derek's _larger_ body, and the otherwise déjà vu of the moment suddenly cleared up like his vision.

"Derek…?"

Derek's adult face looked down at him and, for a moment, his expression looked relieved and anguished all at once. Some part of him still looked so young somehow, like maybe younger Derek was looking out from behind those older eyes.

Then Derek turned his head toward the witch, and his face fell into a familiar snarl of rage, eyes flashing red again as his fangs lengthened. Derek moved off of Stiles into a crouch between him and the witch, guarding Stiles with claws, fangs bared, and eyes blazing.

Stiles _could_ move, but now he was too stunned, too in awe to do more than turn his head.

"People have to earn your trust, Derek, I understand that, but once they do…you are allowed to give it to them," said the witch, no longer looking upon them with any sense of aggression. Her hands hung limply at her sides.

Stiles forced himself to sit up, looking around Derek to see how casually Glinda was standing there. Her smirk fell away and she looked entirely serious as she spoke on.

"You are not prepared for what is coming. None of you are. But…with a strong enough pack, if _you_ can be a strong enough leader…you might get there. Tell me, little wolf…" she said, with a single, confident step forward, "…have you learned enough from your past yet?"

Stiles moved his attention up to Derek to watch for his reaction, but he couldn't really see Derek's face from his fallen position. He was surprised when Derek's claws retracted and he stood up straighter rather than defensively low, though he didn't move from standing guard in front of Stiles.

"You did all of this…just to…" Derek shook his head. It was so strange to hear his deeper, older voice again, and that familiar, brooding tone. "I remember, okay? I get it. But you're not getting a thank you."

Glinda huffed and crossed her arms again. "Didn't expect one. But if I think you're ever starting to forget this lesson…I'll be back." With a quick glance down at Stiles, she smiled, then turned on her heels to walk away.

"Wait! Who the _hell_—"

She faded away—literally vanished from sight like a phantom—before Derek could finish his accusing call.

Stiles sat there in the grass, inches from Derek's legs, wondering if his life had actually been put on pause, or if it only felt like everything had gone still. He didn't dare move, or look up again at Derek—_older_ Derek, who was back now, and right there, and _damn it_, Stiles needed to calm down or he wouldn't be able to _breathe_.

"Stiles…?"

Stiles closed his eyes tight a moment, but he knew he couldn't will this away. Slowly, he lifted his head.

Derek had turned to look down at him, but his expression was…blank, unreadable. He held a hand down to Stiles without saying anything more, and gripped it tight as he helped Stiles to his feet. Stiles had to marvel for a moment at how much more Derek's hand encompassed his own, and he found himself staring at that simple connection, that…_change_, until Derek cleared his throat and pulled his hand away.

A tree had collided with the back of Stiles' head, so he felt a little dizzy, and nauseous, but he wondered if that might be because of something other than a concussion.

He looked up slowly again, this time finding Derek's familiar but…different now…hazel eyes staring back at him, looking down at him again rather than up.

For a brief, ridiculous moment, Stiles wondered if Derek would just kill him now for everything that had happened, out here in the woods, without any of the others around to bear witness. But Derek, standing there in jeans that had popped their top button and a borrowed T-shirt that was stretched and pulling at the seams, moved in closer to Stiles, leaned down to rest his forehead against Stiles' forehead, and _breathed in_.

Stiles shuddered, reaching up without thinking to grip Derek's arms tight. All at once the contact seemed to shock something inside of Derek and his eyes widened. He gasped, backpedaling suddenly like he hadn't meant to do that, like he wasn't sure _what_ to do, and shaking his head, his gaze distant and his expression…_raw_.

"_Please_," Stiles said, not even really thinking, just seeing it all coming apart at the seams like that damn stretched T-shirt Derek was wearing, and he couldn't bear to let it happen if he had to witness it. He reached for Derek, who was too far away now to touch. "Derek…"

"I…" Derek tried to speak, faltering as he stumbled another step or two backwards, eyes swimming with moisture and indecision and _memories_…

"Stiles!"

"Derek!"

"Hey!"

A chorus of voices preceded the appearance of the others—_all of them_, the whole pack, as if they had sensed as one when Derek changed back. Isaac, Erica, and Jackson came from one direction, and Scott and Boyd appeared from another, fulfilling the rest of Stiles' déjà vu, like maybe the last few days had been nothing but a wonderful dream.

This time, _Stiles_ stepped back, away from Derek, giving him room as the others came in closer to surround them. The wolves—Derek included—seemed to forget Stiles then as they sniffed the air. Derek looked so silly, straining within Stiles' clothes, and Jackson even dared to snort as he took in Derek's adult form. But Derek didn't glare or reprimand. His face took on a brief expression of completeness as he breathed in his pack.

It wasn't childish for Stiles to feel a wave of jealousy over that—he was _entitled_—but he tried to hide it as his fists clenched tight at his sides. A small, terrible part of him almost wanted Derek to just…yell at them, be the old Derek again, if he was going to push _him_ away. Then, when Isaac did the brave, foolish thing he had done once before, and pounced on Derek with encasing arms, seeing Derek melt into the touch and _allow_ it…just made Stiles feel empty.

_They_ could have him. Just not him.

The pack came together like an inhale of air, and Stiles was pulled in with the others, forming an insane pack group hug around Derek like they had all those days ago. And, like before, Stiles heard Derek's breath hitch, though the sound wasn't followed by any sobs. The pack was bonding without need for words, just with scent and touch. Stiles was there too, but he was still on the outside looking in, not really _pack_ in quite the same way, and a part of him wanted so desperately to pull out of the others' hold.

When he caught Derek turn toward him and steal a whiff of his short hair, only for Derek's brow to scrunch up in anguish and…_regret_, Stiles couldn't take it anymore, and the exhale out of the mass embrace couldn't come soon enough. Stiles fumbled backward on unsteady feet when they all finally parted.

Before, he couldn't look at Derek; now, all he could do was stare at him, and he knew his stare was accusing, much as he struggled to hide it.

But Derek wouldn't look back at him.

"O-Okay…enough of this," Derek said to the others, pulling himself together with a deep breath, and looking to each of them—other than Stiles. "Everyone…good?"

The others all seemed so content, since Derek had allowed the intimate contact.

Then Jackson said, "Sure…as long as we can have a few more lessons like we did the other day. I kind of liked the younger you."

Stiles watched closely, but Derek didn't betray himself with any more waves of regret—not toward the others. He attempted a smile. "I can do that. I can do…better. Just don't expect…_everything_ to be the way it was." Derek wasn't looking at Stiles as he said that, but Stiles felt the words in his gut like a punch, meant only for him.

He felt numb, and dizzy again, and he could feel the panic creeping up his spine, the air deflating from his lungs…

There was a rustle in the trees, and each of the wolves turned and dropped into a defensive stance, but the witch wasn't coming back. Chris, Alison, and a few other hunters appeared out of the darkness. There was a moment of silence, then Chris and Derek locked gazes, and for the first time, neither of them looked challenging toward the other. Instead, they shared a nod of understanding.

Even _Chris_ got that much.

Stiles was in a daze, not really aware of how long the hunters remained before taking off again, not really seeing how Alison stayed behind to join Scott, nor did he hear when Derek told the others that it was time to go home.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't…_see_, he realized, moments before the full brunt of the panic attack overtook him, and he passed out onto the ground.

tbc...

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Just trust me. :-)


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: Work has been crazy this week, but it gave me time to think this over more, and...now you're getting two chapters. Here's part one, with one more to follow to close off the fic. :-) Enjoy!

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The cascade of voices around Stiles were more irritating than comforting, demanding whether or not he was alright, shouts of his name, tittering over whether or not he had a concussion since he had been thrown against the tree, and whether or not they should bring him to the hospital.

Stiles was somewhat comforted when he felt Erica grip his hand—he knew it was Erica and not Alison because of just how strong her grip was. And it was kind of nice to hear how concerned Scott sounded. But the rest was a din; all of it was just a bunch of noise…until Stiles was able to focus on Derek's voice, urgent and deep, but also gentle, coaxing, as his larger, warm hands settled on Stiles' face and he told Stiles to _breathe_.

"It's okay...Stiles, it's _okay_," Derek said, which reminded Stiles of the night before, when Derek had said that to him under very different circumstances, with his sweet smile.

Stiles came back to full consciousness slowly, his breath evening out as he looked up and Derek's hazel eyes came into view.

"I'd…punch you in the face...if I didn't know how much…more…it would hurt me than you..." Stiles managed to gasp up at Derek, before remembering that the others were all there too, and Erica was still gripping his hand. Their hovering faces swirled in front of Stiles.

Jackson was smirking.

Isaac's eyes looked huge with worry.

Scott clearly didn't understand what he'd just missed.

Alison elbowed him, and realization dawned soon after.

Erica gave Stiles' hand another firm squeeze before letting go, standing up to take Boyd's arm. They both looked down with furrowed brows.

_Damn it._

Then, to Stiles' genuine surprise, Derek leaned in beside his ear and whispered, "I thought you were going to key my car?" There was humor in his eyes when he pulled away, mixing with the traces of regret that still lingered. The regret…

Stiles looked away, then he sat up and pushed _Derek_ away, attempting to avoid meeting gazes with any of the others, because he knew they all..._knew_, and while he also knew that none of them would judge him for his feelings or what had happened between him and the younger Derek, he just couldn't face any of their sympathies right now either. He definitely avoided looking at Jackson.

As Stiles tried to get to his feet using his own power, Derek interceded and pulled him up with an easy strength. Even after Stiles was standing and steady, Derek didn't let him go, hands locked around his elbows.

"I'm taking you home," Derek said, eyes knitted close together, all humor gone again, replaced with a more common expression of firm resolve.

"Derek..." Stiles tried.

But Derek tightened his grip, sliding his hands up Stiles' arms to hold him securely. His expression breached no argument. "I'm. Taking. You. _Home_."

"Fine," Stiles huffed, looking away again, because looking at Derek was bordering him too closely on totally losing his shit again. "Don't forget my bat. It came in so _handy_."

Stiles was admittedly not feeling very well, so some of the next several minutes went by in a blur. Derek grabbed his bat, as requested, but he kept hold of Stiles with one hand as the group started travelling through the woods toward the cars. It didn't take long, since Derek was leading and he knew these woods better than anyone. The previous din had fallen to mostly silence amongst the others, which Stiles was grateful for, because he really didn't want to answer any questions.

When they reached the cars, only the jeep and Chris' SUV remained. Chris was still there, presumably waiting for Alison. He agreed to give the rest of the wolf pack rides as well, since there was no other way for them all to get home. Stiles did note that Derek actually thanked Chris for helping out, especially since the SUV was soon packed, leaving the jeep to only Derek and Stiles.

Then Derek got into Stiles' driver's side, and the next thing Stiles knew, they were on the road, just the two of them within the silence of his jeep. Stiles let his head lull to the side away from Derek, focusing on the hum from the engine.

"Don't close your eyes. Look forward. I need to know you're alert."

"I don't have a concussion," Stiles said absently.

"...I know."

"It was a panic attack."

"I know."

"I haven't had one since—"

"_I know_." Derek's voice bordered on a growl, but he didn't say anything else.

Stiles lulled his head the other way to face Derek, allowing himself a moment to study the slightly more masculine jawline and the even distribution of dark stubble. "My head does kind of hurt."

Derek glanced at him.

"I can't believe you're driving my jeep."

Derek snorted. "I _do_ have a license."

"Not in those pants."

A chuckle escaped Derek before he could stop himself, his smile widening to reveal those adorable crooked eyeteeth.

The corner of Stiles' mouth twitched up as he saw a flash of the younger Derek in the expression. Which immediately made his smile slip again. He found himself staring at Derek like he might penetrate through the years with a single look, and somewhere underneath he'd find the boy he had lost.

Derek glanced at him again, his smile slipping as well. "Stiles..."

"Please...don't give me a Dear John speech right now...or I might throw up on you..." Stiles didn't want to lift his head from how it was leaning against the seat, and he did feel nauseous. "Maybe I do have a concussion..."

Derek frowned. "You just need to take some ibuprofen when I get you home, and rest, but if you start throwing up, I'm taking you to the hospital."

Stiles glanced down Derek's body, not really listening to him, taking in the ruined shirt and jeans...and how tight it all was, and how...Derek had unzipped the pants so they wouldn't pinch so much, and with the way the shirt was pulling and hitched a bit, there was all this _skin_...

Instead of being turned on...the sight made Stiles' throat close up and he just wanted to cry.

"Stiles, stop it. I've been back for...minutes. Can you give me some time to adjust? I haven't even _said_ anything..."

"No, but you've done enough, and looked like you couldn't get away from me fast enough..._enough_. Like I'm nothing but this huge regret you can't take back, and you're just...pitying me now." Stiles heard the strange emotionlessness to his voice, but he couldn't help it. He felt numb, like he had in the woods. He felt utterly defeated. "Yeah...I think I'd rather you were throwing me into walls again."

Derek's hands gripped around the steering wheel too tightly, pulling on the material covering it like he might tear it right off. They had been driving for longer than Stiles had realized, because they were already pulling up in front of his house. Derek parked, but kept the engine idling, staring forward through the windshield for several moments.

Stiles flinched when Derek suddenly slammed his hands against the steering wheel, causing the horn to blare for a fraction of a second.

"_Of course_ I'm filled with regret. I remember _everything_." Derek turned toward Stiles sharply, eyes stern and brow scrunched, so that Stiles couldn't tell if it was just older Derek's default face showing or if he was really that angry. "Don't you get it? You made this all so much harder, because now I know how much easier it might have been…if I'd just had you with me in the beginning."

Stiles stared dumbfounded back at Derek. There was this thin line of anger and frustration rising up within him, but it wasn't entirely his own. He could _feel_ Derek, just like he had in the woods, and the dull thrum of emotions all mixed together were too confusing for Stiles to really understand what Derek was trying to say.

So Stiles didn't respond, just continued to stare, trying to dissect the strange puzzle that was Derek Hale.

"Stiles…I'm not used to you being this quiet. Ever," Derek said after a while, calmer now, though his eyes were still intense with warring emotions. "Tell me what you're thinking. What you're feeling. I mean, I can _feel_…" Derek shook his head, like he didn't want to admit that he could feel Stiles the same way Stiles could feel Derek. He wanted Stiles to _tell_ him, so the answer would be plain and undistorted.

"I feel like…I lost my best friend," Stiles said, feeling the weight of the truth of that statement crush down upon his shoulders. Then he quickly added, "Don't tell Scott I said that."

A corner of Derek's mouth twitched upward. "I'm still him, you know. I'm the same person."

"Yeah…I think you are. But I don't…fit into your life the same way anymore, do I?"

Derek answered with a long sigh, which Stiles took for confirmation…until he started at the feeling of Derek's hand reaching for his across the seats.

Stiles looked up into hazel, amazed to find Derek's brow…smooth.

"You idiot," Derek said fondly, "I regret alot of things...too many things...but not you."

"But…I thought…don't you think I'm too young for you now? Or something?" Stiles wanted to sit up further, move his face away from being pressed into the headrest, but he wasn't used to such an open and young expression on older Derek's face, and he was afraid to disrupt the feeling of Derek's warm skin on his wrist. He thought of the woods again. "The way you were looking at me before…"

"Stiles…you _are_ too young," Derek interrupted, gripping Stiles' wrist harder and pulling Stiles' hand in against his chest, "but I don't care about that. I don't regret what happened with you, I just..._hate_ that...I didn't have you there when I really was sixteen, when I…needed someone who wasn't just out for themselves. In the woods, I kept thinking about how these last few days have been...and then...how things really were..."

"With...Kate?"

Derek's expression melted into equal parts anger and anguish, before he shook head to clear those feelings away. "_Of course_ I feel regret. Because I had her...and I wish it had been you…" He trailed, like it was all too much, and the words weren't enough to really explain everything he meant.

Stiles could _feel_ what Derek meant. Touching Derek, pressing his palm to Derek's chest while Derek held on to his wrist, intensified whatever their strange connection had grown into, almost as if he could hear Derek's words inside his head. Stiles licked his lips, almost overheated from the constant contact of Derek's gaze, but he didn't want to look away.

"It's different with the others," Derek said. "I knew from the beginning that I was handling things with them…well…"

"Shit-poorly?" Stiles suggested with a slight grin.

Derek frowned, but the expression didn't stick the way it used to. "Yeah…I guess that sums it up pretty fairly. I didn't want that. My dad never ran things like a dictatorship; he wouldn't want me to, either. I want to be better, like I promised the others. I can be. Maybe not exactly the way I was the past few days, but…"

"I get it," Stiles nodded.

Derek nodded with him, like a thread was connecting them. "It's different with the others," he said again. "You're…different. I used to tell myself…that this—us—would be a bad idea…even though I wanted you…_god_, right from the second I first saw you…knowing you're my mate, the only person I could be happy with—the one person meant for me. I held back because of your age and the situations we were in. But I don't want to keep telling myself that wanting you makes me weak...when I know how strong you make me feel."

The feeling of Derek's other hand coming up to cup Stiles' face melted away any last traces of nausea or a headache—at least right then, in the car, caught up in this strange, connecting circuit with Derek. Stiles could hear his and Derek's hearts beating in tandem.

"If you think age is too big of a divider for us…I can wait for you," Derek spoke on, softly inside the car, with the low hum of the engine still surrounding them. "And if you don't want anything to do with me anymore...I can accept that too."

All at once the rest of the world came back to Stiles, and he remembered that there was life outside of his jeep, outside of Derek Hale…but he wasn't sure if he could handle a life that didn't have Derek weaved into it. "Dude," he said, grinning as he took the palm that had been pressing to Derek's chest and gripped the already stretched T-shirt. "I'm sixteen. I don't have the patience to wait for anything."

There were only a few inches separating them; pulling Derek closer so that their lips met was easy—so easy. And it felt so _strange_. The burn of Derek's stubble was so different from the smooth-faced Derek that Stiles had first kissed, and while his lips felt and tasted the same, they were…larger, the whole experience making Stiles feel smaller, encompassed. He didn't mind any of it, because the emotion behind each press of their lips, each swipe and caress of Derek's tongue, was the same as it had always been from their first stolen kiss in Stiles' bed.

Stiles gasped for air, losing his grip on Derek's shirt since there wasn't much slack, and let his head fall forward to press against Derek's. "You're wasting my gas," he whispered.

Derek smiled, and there was enough of the younger Derek there, mixed with experience and pain that would always be just below the surface, that Stiles thought he liked _this_ smile on _this_ Derek best of all. Derek pulled away so he could turn off the jeep, then removed the keys and handed them to Stiles.

"You should...probably come in. You know...make sure I'm okay. I don't think Dad's home yet," Stiles added, with a nod toward the empty driveway.

Derek's smile shifted into a smirk. "Eventually, he _is_ going to be an...issue, you know."

"Probably won't believe Joe had a growth spurt, huh? I'll figure something out." Stiles blinked his large brown eyes at Derek, totally uncaring about using the Bambi expression if it worked. "Come in?"

"Well…I suppose you do still have my jacket. And clothes that _fit_." Derek pulled uncomfortably at the shirt he had ruined, practically ready to pop all of its seams by now. He got out of the keep and followed Stiles toward the house.

Along the way, Stiles couldn't help glancing down Derek's body a little more appreciatively. "I don't know, Derek...I kind of like that look. Danny sure did," Stiles added with a wider grin.

Derek shook his head, but he was still smiling.

_Danny_. Damn that awesome gay boy and his…_knowing_.

The second Stiles had the door open, mouth moving, about to say something to Derek, he realized his mistake in assuming his dad wasn't home. The car must have been in the garage, because the first thing he saw as he entered the house was his _dad_ coming out of the kitchen.

"Uhh…"

"Hey, you're back. Good day at school?"

Stiles froze for a moment, then glanced behind him to see that Derek wasn't standing there anymore. He leaned back just long enough to catch a flash of too tight jeans disappearing into the branches of the tree that led up to his window.

_Thank god for wolf reflexes_, Stiles thought, as he closed the door behind him.

"Yeah...pretty good day," Stiles said, realizing what time it was and that he had managed to get home decently around when he normally would after lacrosse practice. "Hit my head a little at practice, though, and, uhh...Coach suggested I take some ibuprofen and get some rest. Don't want to take any chances."

The Sheriff frowned and nodded. "I'll get you some. You let me know if you start feeling any worse."

"Of course," Stiles said as he followed his dad into the kitchen. He was anxious to get upstairs, since he wasn't sure if he had left his window latch unlocked or not. One of these days a neighbor was going to notice the dark figure hanging outside Stiles' bedroom window.

His dad got him some meds and a glass of water. There was sloppy Joe mix heating up on the stove. At first whiff, it smelled glorious; at the second, Stiles quickly downed the ibuprofen and willed his stomach to remain settled. At this point, he plain _refused_ to have a concussion.

"I think I'm going to go lie down," Stiles said with a grimace.

"Okay, but try and stay awake, if you can. I'll come check on you after a bit, see if you're ready for dinner."

Stiles nodded, always grateful for his dad's care and how concerned he was over even the slightest cold sometimes, let alone a possible head injury. "Thanks." Stiles turned to go, but barely got through the door before he heard his dad call after him.

"Hey…about that…Joe kid."

Stiles stiffened.

"I saw that he stayed over again last night. Seems like you boys have gotten…pretty close."

Slowly, Stiles turned back around to face his dad, a little terrified at first to see what expression the Sheriff might be wearing. He was surprised to find a kind of calm resolution.

"He fits in nice with that group of friends of yours, and…well…seems like a good kid. I'd still like to speak with his uncle once he's back in town, but…I suppose I don't mind if he comes around." The Sheriff paused, brow furrowing for only a moment before he added, "You're, uhh…" he cleared his throat, "…being _safe_, right?"

"_Dad_…" Stiles groaned.

"I'm just…asking."

Stiles did have to admit that his dad could be asking much more intimate details, or yelling at him. He pulled on a smile. "Safe as safe can be," he said, since, after all, a werewolf wasn't exactly prone to STDs, and he was pretty sure they didn't have anything in common with seahorses. "Promise."

The Sheriff nodded, seemingly satisfied by that answer. They shared a silent moment of understanding, then he said, "Just…let me know next time he's over, okay?"

Stiles tried to imagine how _that_ conversation would go, especially considering that 'Joe' was probably in Stiles room right now. But nope, he'd save that for another day. "Will do," he said, before finally freeing himself from the kitchen and making his way upstairs.

About a foot from his closed bedroom door, Stiles hesitated. Sure, things weren't as bad as he had first thought back in the woods, but it still wasn't the same as how things had been the past few days. What was appropriate now? Were they a couple? How were they even going to do this?

Stiles thought about their kiss in the car, and as much as it had also been...nice, and gentle, and _awesome_, it had still been different. What if everything was different? _Too_ different. What if they didn't have anything in common anymore? He couldn't really imagine adult Derek picking up comics. Although...maybe he had a secret stash somewhere in the den...

As all of these thoughts danced through Stiles' head, he reminisced over all the ways they had just been...kids together the past few days, and easy friends. He liked the kissing and...other parts too, but it was the friendship that he was most afraid to lose.

Steeling himself to just deal with this and take whatever happened as it came, Stiles opened his bedroom door...on Derek standing in the middle of the room in his underwear.

Derek had to know that Stiles was there—hello, wolf senses—but he seemed preoccupied with the clothing he had laid out on the bed. The clothes he had been wearing that night when he had first been changed into his younger self, clothing that actually fit him, and that had been washed and put away in one of Stiles' drawers. It was like some grand, final shift from what had been…to what was—young Derek was gone.

Stiles tried not to think of it that way, and took another step into the room. Finally, Derek glanced at him, and immediately seemed to remember that he was in nothing but underwear...underwear that was still a little too tight since they were the ones he had borrowed from Stiles that morning—with Batman on them.

Derek frowned. "Sorry," he said, probably because Stiles was staring with an expression that was not so much appreciative as...tragic. Derek quickly snatched up the jeans he had laid out, even though he was still wearing Stiles' underwear.

Stiles licked his lips slowly and took a breath. "Remember...when I gave those to you this morning...and you started geeking out over the Burton films and...and the animated series?" he prompted hopefully.

A familiar young-Derek grin spread over Derek's face as he pulled up the jeans. "And you had to go and spoil it all by telling me about the new movies."

"Hey, you'd already seen _Batman Begins_. You said you liked it okay, just—"

"Just that Christian Bale is not Bruce Wayne, and my opinion hasn't changed now that I _have_ seen the rest of the franchise. _Dark Knight Rises_ was good, but...he's no Batman."

Taking in Derek's expression and how easily those words had tumbled out of him, Stiles allowed a smile to overtake his face too. There he was, after all—Derek. _All_ of him. "So...you found the time to go to _Dark Knight Rises_ despite our harrowing adventures? Maybe you _are_ still the geek I fell in love with."

Derek had just finished pulling the black T-shirt over his head. He stared at Stiles, stunned.

Stiles reached back...and closed his bedroom door behind him.

tbc...

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That Batman underwear moment was brought to you by Kalira of the flames. :-) Thanks, hun!


	10. Chapter 9

A/N: THE END, because chapter fics are too much responsibility and I need to remember to keep to shorter endeavors when I have two jobs and an original story going. :-) But I've really enjoyed writing this one. You've all been awesome readers and commenters, and made this even better.

Enjoy! And you can rest assured I'll be back with _something_ in the near future.

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Derek sat on Stiles' bed, having neatly folded up the stretched-to-destruction clothing he had borrowed, along with his own larger underwear that he hadn't gotten around to replacing, and set them on the floor. Stiles found himself unfairly preoccupied with how Derek was wearing _his_ underwear as he moved to sit across from Derek in his desk chair.

"So...does it feel like all of that happened over the last few days, or...seven years ago?"

"...both? It's...hard to explain." Derek's brow scrunched in that familiar sourwolf way, and yet his eyes held the endearing eagerness and affection that Stiles had started to get used from the younger Derek.

The thought of actually having this awesome Derek-combo—so damn hot, and a comic book geek to boot—all for him was a little more than Stiles could fully grasp with a sane mind. He had barely been able to handle having _younger_ Derek.

So, hopelessly awkward and afraid that any of the next few words out of his mouth might sabotage how well this was going, Stiles forced out a laugh and said, "I can't believe what a big liar you are, being totally into me all this time and acting like you hated me."

Derek frowned, though his raised eyebrow proved his amusement. "I wasn't acting like I...hated you."

Stiles raised an eyebrow back at him.

"I was…trying to keep you from liking _me_. If you hated _me_...maybe it would be easier not to…think about you."

"Because...you don't deserve to be happy?" Stiles said with offhanded sarcasm.

"Because..." But Derek's eyes glazed over, betraying how that was exactly what he had been thinking. He sagged forward, letting his arms rest on his thighs, and stared at the carpet. "Damn it. I just...I _just_…" he closed his eyes, "…I wish it had been you," he said again, like he had said in the jeep, only so softly, Stiles almost would have needed wolf ears to hear it.

Carefully, even though he could never be silent or stealthy enough for Derek not to hear every move he made, Stiles slid from the desk chair to the floor, and settled on his knees in front of Derek. He placed his hands on Derek's knees, waiting for hazel to flick up at him.

Stiles grinned when they did. "You know, in a way…it kinda _was_ me. What do you remember now when you think back to being sixteen?"

"You," Derek said steadily, his eyes clear and focused on Stiles' face. "_Before_ her. Like a dream."

"It was real…" Stiles answered quietly. He held Derek's gaze for maybe an eternity too long, then stood up to move to the bed and sit beside Derek instead. Their arms touched, and the inherent warmth from Derek made Stiles' breath hitch. "So…you still want to borrow _Marvel_ _Zombies_?"

Derek gave a short laugh. "Actually…I already own all of it, but it has been a while since I read through some of it."

Stiles turned to stare at Derek, amazed that his previous guess that Derek had a secret stash of comics at the den was actually true.

Derek looked at him sideways, still slumped forward. "After…the fire," he began, "Laura…almost every week, started…trying to replace the comics I'd lost. We always had plenty of money, but we still tried to be frugal about most things. Even so, she always gave me extra for comics, or picked some up for me. It was silly and small and…made all the difference in the world." He smiled somberly, eyes going distant for a moment as he remembered his sister, who had managed to survive and be there for him…only to die what was still a handful of months ago.

There was something still so surreal about being able to know and comfort this…werewolf who had once seemed so untouchable, and Stiles allowed himself to revel in how he was one of the very elite few who actually _knew_ Derek Hale.

He slid his hand onto Derek's knee again. "I know…it can't be exactly like it was," he said. "You're him, but you're..._you_, too. It's not the same, because you're not the same. And I'm okay with that. I love learning new things about you…remember?" Stiles grinned as he moved his hand slowly from Derek's knee…toward the hem of his shirt and slipped his fingers up underneath to Derek's firm stomach beneath.

Derek sucked in air from the tickle of Stiles' fingers, catching his wrist instinctively, but smiled back at him—that perfect, crooked-canine smile.

"But I won't lie and say I don't appreciate the things that _are_ the same," Stiles grinned.

He pulled his hand away, and Derek allowed it, watching intently as Stiles shifted onto one knee and lifted the other leg over, settling himself in Derek's lap. Stiles thought he might slide off from the precarious position, but Derek's large hands came up to hold Stiles in place around his lower back.

"For instance…I don't see any reason why we can't…still…" Stiles grinned wider rather than finish the thought, and while Derek looked skeptical for a moment, like some small part of him wanted to resist as his older self had for so many months, his eyes quickly softened, and he leaned up toward Stiles' lips.

_Knock. Knock._

"You alright in there, kiddo?" came the Sheriff's voice from the other side of Stiles' door.

"Okay…maybe there's one reason…" Stiles whispered. Then the actual feeling of panic crept in and he dove off of Derek's lap and up the bed.

Bless Derek for not having to be told to hide, because he immediately dropped over the side of the bed where he was hidden between the bed and the window. Stiles had just settled himself back seemingly nonchalant against his pillow when his dad opened the door.

"Uhh…yeah, Dad, I'm fine," Stiles called. "Just…taking it easy while trying not to actually fall asleep. Harder than it looks. I've been...going over topic ideas for my next Econ paper."

His dad came over to the side of the bed, wearing his usual concerned expression, though infused with sympathy rather than the accusatory look Stiles usually earned. "Maybe you'll try writing about something actually related to Economics this time," he said with a humored raised eyebrow.

"I was thinking of a paper on the devastating effect the vast amount of billionaire superheroes would have on the economy if they actually existed. That's relevant," Stiles grinned. He actually _had_ been considering that topic.

His dad chuckled and shook his head. "Just promise you'll only ever use your super-intelligence for good."

"Deal."

"Ready for dinner?"

"Uhh…" Stiles used all of his self-control not to glance to the side where Derek was hiding on the floor. "I think I need a little more resting time. Maybe…an hour or so? Then I'll be able to scarf something down. I swear." Stiles half-expected to hear Derek snort at that and give himself away. There was silence from the side of the bed, but he imagined Derek grinning anyway.

What? Stiles wasn't above subterfuge for sex.

The Sheriff nodded. "Well, if you're sure, I'll keep it on simmer. Tell me the second you feel worse, if you do."

"Absolutely."

The Sheriff took a moment to reach over and pet Stiles' head—since it wasn't actually possible to tousle his short hair—then headed back out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Stiles let out a deep breath. Yeah, he was going to hold off explaining Derek to his dad for as long as possible.

"So…who has the worst effect on the economy by hoarding all their wealth for superhero gear? Tony?" Derek's voice filtered up from the floor.

Stiles rolled over to the side of the bed and peered down at him, taking in the relaxed way Derek was just lying there, hands folded neatly over his stomach as he looked up at Stiles with a smooth, carefree expression that Stiles wanted to keep there forever. That Derek was on a first-name basis with said superheroes made a strange warmth build in Stiles' belly.

"According to Forbes Fictional 15…definitely Tony," Stiles said, "though Bruce isn't far behind. Or am I not allowed to cross universes?"

Derek just laughed. _Laughed_.

Stiles slinked off the bed onto the floor…and right on top of Derek where he snuggled in like the pack member he had apparently been since day one. "I could write about wolf pack relationship dynamics instead. Isaac totally thinks you're his mom."

"Don't be silly. _You're_ the mom." Derek's tone was playful—_juvenile_ even—but his large, warms hands on Stiles' waist were…all grown up.

Stiles sat up slightly so that he was basically sitting on Derek's hips, legs straddling the Alpha beneath him. Derek's hazel eyes stared fondly up at him, urging Stiles to do…whatever he wanted to do, without even having to speak.

Sure, they could wait, and take things slow, take their time, now that things were back to normal. But damn it, Stiles wanted—_needed_—the affirmation that what had happened between them before really was…real. He believed Derek's words and the way Derek looked at him, but he needed to _feel_ the absolution.

So he started by feeling the toned muscles of Derek's abs again as he slid his hands up underneath Derek's black T-shirt. Again, Derek sucked in air at the slight tickle, but Stiles also saw how his pupils started to dilate.

"You're...really not going to freak out or…give me some lame speech about how I'm too young and we should wait?" Stiles prompted softly, even while he continued to slide his left hand up Derek's chest, and his right began unbuttoning Derek's jeans—which he had put _on_ only a few minutes prior.

Derek looked thoughtful but not at all like he wanted to tell Stiles to stop now. "I _should_…for a number of reasons," he said. "You _are_ young. Your father won't approve no matter how you explain this. It's all moving so fast, and…maybe you're too young to really understand what 'mate' means…"

Stiles paused at the sight of his own Batman underwear staring back at him, and how Derek's voice had trailed. He looked up into hazel again. "I understand what it means. I _do_. I'm…it for you. If you want the fairytale ending instead of just casual sex your whole life—not that that isn't without merit—I'm it. Which is…this insanely huge responsibility, and I'm sure at some point I'll feel overwhelmed by it…at least a little. But you know what I'm _not_ going to do?"

Derek looked back at him expectantly.

"I'm never going to wish we didn't give this a chance. Coz, crazy as it is to me…I _like_ you. You're this awesomely layered person, who's part geek, part supernatural creature, part Greek _god_, and you're destined to be with…me. I think I can put up with the occasional sourwolf moment for that. And if you get on my nerves too much, I can always still key the Camaro."

Derek snorted, but Stiles was through with the witty banter for now. He slid his hand inside the opening of the Batman boxer briefs and found Derek—so warm and already half hard.

Stiles' breath stuttered a little as he stared into adult Derek's face. "I can't believe I'm touching you…" he said, like he had said last night, only…he was even more amazed than he had been then, because this…_this_ was Derek.

Adult Derek wasn't as immediately vocal as the younger version had been when Stiles began to gently _tug_ within the confines of cotton, but once Derek was fully hard and Stiles had to slide the jeans down Derek's hips to free him fully, the coolness of the air made Derek gasp. Then Stiles' hand was back, having pulled Derek out through the opening in the shorts rather than take them off completely.

"You know…you can totally keep these," Stiles said, indicating the too-tight underwear. He was never _completely_ done with the witty banter.

"Maybe we can share…" Derek said with a slight smirk—an expression that younger Derek never quite got across the same way and that made Stiles melt.

The thought of wearing the underwear after Derek had been wearing them—well, he'd wash them first, coz otherwise that would be kinda gross—made Stiles' cock jump. He had been thankful for his jeans when his dad came in, if only to hide his own partial erection at the time, but now he wanted to be free.

Stiles had a plan—sort of. He knew what he wanted, at least. So he released Derek long enough to slide his own jeans off, leaving on his underwear for now, and then carefully removed Derek from the opening in the Batman underwear and pulled them down his legs, so that the shorts and jeans had Derek's legs locked together where they gathered at his knees.

Stiles hunkered lower on top of Derek's body, and began to lower his head between Derek's legs. He kept his eyes on Derek's face the entire time as he took him into his mouth.

Derek gasped with a little more force this time, and struggled not to arch his hips.

There was something so _dirty_ about the whole thing, because Stiles' dad was home and right downstairs, and Derek was so much older than him and wearing his _Batman_ underwear around his knees, and they were on the floor of Stiles' bedroom, hidden from the door, and…and Stiles was sucking Derek off with an eager mouth.

Stiles played those details over in his mind again and again, and suddenly really wanted to touch himself. Or have _Derek_ touch him. He reached down and gave himself a firm squeeze just to keep his wits about him, but continued to lick at the precum and salt on Derek's cock, relaxing his throat as best he could as he sucked Derek in.

Finally, the mules and moans Stiles had so appreciated from the younger Derek began forming in older Derek's throat, his head tossed back to display the long line of his neck as he held himself up on his elbows. Then he snapped his head forward to look at Stiles—to _watch_—and his eyes flickered Alpha red.

"Stiles…" Derek said, and _fuck_, the gruffness of his voice was like sex personified.

Stiles pulled his lips away, then ran his tongue slowly across them, watching as Derek watched him. The strength in Derek was something that had been easy to forget when he was sixteen and _shorter_ than Stiles, but when Derek grabbed Stiles by the front of his shirt and pulled them both up into a harsh, frenzied kiss, while simultaneously reaching down between Stiles' legs and gripping him firm…Stiles was abruptly reminded of just how encompassing adult Derek really was. And he really freaking liked it.

A slow moan built in Stiles as Derek pulled him from his boxers and spread his skin with precum, pumping firm with practiced fingers and…_fuck_—Stiles definitely had that word on the brain. He finally turned his mouth away from Derek's insistent, probing tongue to take a breath and release his moan at the same time.

Derek's words came hot against his ear. "I want you inside me again."

Stiles' brain promptly shut down. "Huh…wha…?"

"_Stiles_."

"O-Okay, I…may need you to repeat that...several times."

Derek gave Stiles' cock a gentle squeeze, held Stiles close with his other arm, and ran his tongue along the contours of Stiles' ear, before repeating, "I want you…inside me again. I want…to remember that feeling. Then…next time…" Derek pulled back so he could look Stiles in the eyes. He grinned promisingly.

That sounded like a fantastic idea, said Stiles brain—or his libido. They were pretty well mingled at this point. So Stiles gave what may have been a vague nod and swept back in to capture Derek's lips. Derek's hand slid away, and they settled more comfortably on the floor so that Stiles was in Derek's lap, their mutually wet, hard cocks grinding together between them as they kissed.

Stiles hissed when he tore his lips away again. "Back…on the bed?" he gasped, though they had begun a steady rocking motion that was so going to push him over the edge any second if they didn't stop.

Derek didn't answer with words. He held Stiles around the hips and just…stood up, like it was no feat at all to lift all of Stiles' and his own weight—which it probably wasn't. Derek carefully dropped Stiles onto the bed, kicked away his shorts and jeans, tossed his shirt off over his head, and then he was just…naked…walking around the bed to the drawer with the warming oil.

Stiles still had his boxers around his thighs, and a T-shirt and thin hoodie on. He kept his eyes glued to the glorious form of _naked Derek_ while kicking and tossing his own clothing away as quickly as he could.

For a moment, Stiles considered how he had felt when he was with the younger Derek, like…maybe he wasn't such a scrawny, skinny kid. Older Derek was…broader, taller, just…_holy shit_, where did he find all those muscles? But it didn't intimidate Stiles as he had once feared, as he devoured every curve and line of Derek's body, the Alpha just standing there beside the bed with the little bottle of oil in his hands.

He smirked at Stiles. "What?"

"You are aware of how hot you are, right?"

Derek just smiled wider and climbed onto the bed, purposely trailing his eyes over every inch of Stiles to show his own appreciation, which made Stiles blush and feel like the color was probably spreading all the way to his toes.

But hey, just because Derek was _Derek_ again didn't mean Stiles had to turn into some blushing bride. Especially considering what Derek had asked of him. So Stiles reached out to take the bottle of oil and slid over to the side of the bed, indicating for Derek to lie down. When Derek started to position himself onto his stomach, Stiles shook his head.

"I want to see your face this time," Stiles said.

Derek complied, lying on his back instead. "However you want me."

Stiles shuddered. He didn't have the stamina for a second more of foreplay—or Derek's sex-roughened voice—not when Derek was spread out before him like a banquet. Stiles positioned himself in between Derek legs and went straight to work. It was surreal to be so reminded of the night before…while at the same time amazed that this time he was with the Derek he had assumed would kill him for this. But Derek—adult and gorgeous and totally strong enough to rip Stiles' arms off if he wanted—spread his legs and sighed in pleasure with every careful stretch of Stiles' fingers inside of him.

Reservations and apprehensions quickly fell away, faster than they had the first time, because now Stiles knew what he was in for; he knew Derek wanted him, at any age, and Derek had asked…_asked_ for this.

As Stiles finally began to push in, amazed that Derek still felt just as tight, and hot, and _fuck_…suddenly Stiles was overwhelmed even more by whatever crazy mate connection they had built the night before. It was as if Stiles could feel his own pleasure…and Derek's too, mixed together and echoing back at him.

Stiles moaned a little too loudly as he thrust forward, and Derek smiled even as he reached up to cover Stiles' mouth. Stiles took that action as a challenge, much as he was thankful that Derek was conscientious of being in the Sheriff's house, and sucked one of Derek's fingers into his mouth. It was Derek's turn to moan, though he managed a bit better at keeping the sound muffled.

There was a brief moment where it really did overwhelm Stiles, the realization that he was _fucking Derek Hale_, in his own bed, and it wasn't a dream or a fantasy, or some crazy happenstance because of a meddling witch. And sure, it was freaking awesome how smooth and warm and just perfect it all felt, and how insanely hot Derek looked with his finger in Stiles' mouth while he reached down to give himself a few needed pulls...

But more than that…was that this wasn't just sex. It was _awesome_ sex, but it was…more. This was an honest-to-God, supernatural, _fated_ connection.

"I love you," Stiles gasped, surprised even as he said it, even though he'd already implied it and practically said it earlier, but to actually just _say it_ was something that had to happen as the realization of that emotion surged through him.

He really loved Derek. He really _did_.

Derek pulled himself up, even though it looked like it folded his body uncomfortably and broke their steady rhythm, and kissed Stiles. "I love you," he said back.

Stiles shuddered as he released, suddenly, but with such a glorious crescendo. Quickly replacing the hand Derek had been using on himself with his own, Stiles pumped swift and tight until Derek released too, with a moan that he stifled behind his own hand as he let himself fall back onto the bed.

For a moment, Stiles wondered if he'd just...wake up now, and it would be young Derek there, or no Derek at all, but the scenery didn't fade.

Slowly, Stiles dropped down next to Derek, scrunched in tight on the small bed, side by side. Their breathing filled the room. Eventually, Stiles lifted up onto his elbows to look at Derek, down the full length of him, sweaty and sticky and...seriously, _fuck_.

Derek brought Stiles' attention to his eyes with a gentle, coaxing hand on his chin. "I can't promise...that _everything_ will be like it was. But I _can_ promise...that you're mine. And you'll always be mine. I'm not going to be easy to walk away from now." Derek looked a little haunted as he said that, just slightly, hidden behind his eyes where Stiles could just barely make out the pain, the remnants of fear that Stiles might actually walk away some day.

"You'll be sick of me within a week...and you still won't be able to get rid of me," Stiles said with a grin.

Derek just laughed...and nodded.

They kissed, and Stiles tried not to think about his dad, or the rest of the pack, or how things had changed, or how things still _would_ change. Right now, he was content. Right now...he was Derek's Hale's other half, his _mate_, the final missing piece to putting the sourwolf back together, and that was something Stiles was honestly proud of.

"Can I still call you _Youngblood_?" he whispered against Derek's lips.

"Urg, I hate that comic." Derek instinctively rolled his eyes, just like younger Derek had done that first night. Then he smiled.

Stiles squeezed Derek tightly, letting their bodies mold against each other as they laid together on the bed, and grinned back at him. "I know."

* * *

Outside the Stillinski house, an unseen pair remained in shadow, not watching the events within, per se, but knowing full well the importance of what had happened.

"See, I told you Derek might surprise us."

"You did."

"And you were content to just sit back and..._watch_."

Deaton smiled at the woman beside him. "Well, we are Watchers."

Morell quirked a corner of her mouth upward. "Times change. They need to be ready, and Derek was going to drive his pack into the ground without a true anchor to hold onto."

"You may be right," Deaton nodded. "I'm not complaining."

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the house with a sense of calm satisfaction.

"So...I was on vacation?"

"Unless you want to tell them the truth."

"I suppose there was no other way to avoid them coming to me for help. You do make an interesting redhead."

"Strawberry blonde," Morell corrected. "_You_ could stand to flex your powers once in a while."

Deaton chuckled lightly. "Oh...I wouldn't want to give too much away. But...thanks...for this. I think it might actually be just what they need."

"They...the pack, or they, Derek and Mr. Stillinski in there?"

Deaton merely smiled wider, and turned to take off down the street and leave the pair inside the Stillinski house to their privacy. "Oh, let's just say...all of the above."

THE END

* * *

Morell was going to be the witch before I even posted chapter one, so glad to finally get that in there. :-) Hope you all enjoyed how this ended! Let me know!


	11. Part 2: Chapter 1

A/N: Okay, so my original plans to get to this BEFORE the show returned didn't pan out, but I want to get things rolling now, as I have the whole next installment planned. So here is the first part of the next half of this story: Once More With Feeling. Expect pack dynamics and feels completely independent of the current season, as I'm keeping Jackson, and you'll soon be seeing Peter. Oh I love what I'm doing with Peter. Among many other larger plans. Enjoy!

Also, if any of you might be interested in reading an original story of mine, though based off of my Supernatural fanfic Incubus, The Incubus Saga: Book 1 will be out July 1st, on Amazon and at BigWorldNetwork DOT com. It will be available in paperback, ebook, and audiobook. And you better believe there's slash. :-)

* * *

**Once More With Feeling – Part 2 of the With Feeling series**

**Chapter 1: Surprise Training**

* * *

Stiles generally didn't sleep well. Or sleep—at all. Unless he was forcibly knocked unconscious, which was cheating.

The morning after Derek Hale turned from a 16-year-old to his usual adult self, however, after a night of agony and confessions and some really awesome sexiness, Stiles awoke feeling like he had had the best sleep of his life. For once the future didn't seem so bleak, even in Beacon Hills, which may as well have been an actual Hellmouth.

He and Derek were…well, for lack of a better term, dating. Stiles' worst fears of his new friend, Young Derek, had not, in the end, been realized when Sourwolf Derek returned. In fact, Derek wasn't quite so sour anymore. Not completely. He was gentle, and needy, and just wanted to be loved—and Stiles didn't care how _Lifetime_ movie of the week that sounded, because he wanted Derek to be loved too.

Stiles giggled—he was allowed to giggle—as he spread out on his otherwise empty bed, reveling in the remaining scent of Derek all over his sheets. Stiles remembered he had gone down for dinner with his dad at some point, just to make sure his dad didn't worry about his possible concussion. Which he thankfully didn't have, since he felt fine after a good night's sleep, though he knew he still had to take it easy.

After dinner, he had excused himself to go to bed early, and found Derek kicked back on the bed reading _Marvel Zombies_—despite having admitted he owned copies himself. And Derek had smiled at him—smiled. They'd spent a few hours hidden up in Stiles room together after that, talking. Just talking. Sometimes about serious things, but usually about ridiculous comic or video game related things, that eventually led to Stiles revealing he tried writing a comic once, but didn't have the art skills for it. Derek said he wanted to read it, and Stiles gave in—maybe halfway—and said Derek would have to earn it.

Eventually the alpha snuck out, since Stiles had school the next morning, but even though Stiles might have liked another round of sexy fun, he didn't really mind. It was weird, and he knew it wouldn't last very long, but for now everything felt right, and good, and like it would all be okay.

He tried not to think those thoughts too loudly at risk of jinxing the whole thing.

He practically skipped his way into school, finding the rest of the pack—sans Derek of course—gathered at their lockers. All of them—well, all of the wolves—grinned at him knowingly. They could probably smell Derek on him, and had to know that things had worked out after the semi-mess things had turned into in the woods.

Stiles merely held his head high and continued on to where Scott was at his locker by himself. He leaned against the lockers nearby while Scott dug around for whichever books he needed that morning—which Scott probably wasn't even sure about—and waited for his best friend to look at him. He knew he was grinning like an idiot.

Scott smirked crookedly and shook his head. "Dude, I get it. I do have an idea how it feels to be that into someone, you know. And…have sex for the first time," he said in a slightly exaggerated, conspiratorial whisper.

"Technically, it was the second time," Stiles beamed.

Scott chuckled. "I'm aware. Glad you and Derek worked things out. Really. Although…how are you going to handle your dad?"

Stiles turned to lean back against the lockers and tilted his head back. "Avoidance," he nodded to himself, "complete and utter avoidance for as long as I can manage. I can tell him when I'm eighteen."

"Like…a year and a half from now?"

"It's doable. Derek's been in my room how many times since we met him?"

"Good point." Scott slammed his locker shut, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. "It's a little weird, you and Derek, but…kinda not weird too. I don't know, it's like it just…smells right. Ew," he immediately followed up.

Stiles nodded. "Ew."

"But, you know, even though this all started because Peter was being—"

"A sociopath."

Scott continued on without missing step. "We're all one pack now, you know. And it's really…nice. We needed a Pack Mom," he added with that crooked grin on his crooked jaw again.

Normally, Stiles would have smacked him on principle—even if it wouldn't faze his werewolf buddy in the slightest—but he could admit that although he never used to imagine things turning out like this, he was glad they had. Werewolf parts and all.

He had hated Erica and Isaac when they first turned and were acting like homicidal assholes, after all, but then they had settled in, back to their real selves mingled sanely with their new selves, and things changed. Boyd had never really changed, from what Stiles knew of him, but he'd always liked Boyd. And Jackson…wow, Stiles had a tough time with this one, but…Jackson wasn't so bad. He'd only ever had Danny as a friend who really knew and accepted all he was, and even Danny hadn't known everything until recently.

They were a pack all together, a family. Stiles loved his dad more than anything, but having a whole extended family again was…nice, just as Scott had said. Really nice. Awesome, even.

"Oh, hey," Scott said as they began their trek to class. "I got a message from Deaton this morning asking me to put in some hours whenever I can manage. I guess he was just on vacation."

"Yeah," Stiles nodded, not entirely surprised, "I saw Counselor Morrell on my way in, so no missing people, turns out. Guess we were blaming the witch for nothing." Stiles could sure think of some things to thank her for, though.

Stiles was admittedly anxious to get through the school day. There were times when he honestly enjoyed school—learning, forming opinions, driving teachers crazy—but so much had happened recently that he really just wanted a vacation. A chance to take things in, relax, and…maybe spend some quality time with his boyfriend.

Boyfriend. Stiles was totally going to call Derek that in public the next time he saw him—and by public, he meant in front of the rest of the pack.

Finally, after what seemed like an agonizing day, Stiles was in his last class, watching the clock tick down to lacrosse practice. He had a lot of energy to burn, and there weren't any imminent threats to the town, so he was looking forward to some time on the field. Then, about five minutes to the bell, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He noticed that Scott's, Isaac's, and Danny's—who all happened to be in that class with him—also reached to check vibrating phones.

Stiles checked the text message to see that it was from Derek: _Training. Den. After lacrosse. _

It was such a normal Derek kind of message, short and to the point, and yet Stiles was instantly excited. He was being included in a text about training. He was being included, which meant Derek wanted him there. Of course, this scared him a little too, because he kind of wanted to know why Derek wanted him there, except maybe to be a cheerleader again, like he had been during Young Derek's training session. But then why also invite Danny?

Whatever the answer might be, Stiles wanted to see how Adult Derek was going to try being…better. Not that he wanted Derek to change, but he'd already started to get to know this opened up Derek, mixed with traces of his younger self, and he liked everything about it. Training was merely the next step.

Okay, so maybe Stiles was a little disappointed when lacrosse practice started and, although Allison and Lydia—and amazingly Erica—were in the stands together, Derek was nowhere to be seen. But after only about ten minutes, the next time Stiles glanced over, he caught sight of Derek hidden beside the bleachers, like he wasn't quite sure he should be there. The sight of him, all unsure and shadowed, dressed normally in all black and his leather jacket, made Stiles weak in the knees—and made him miss a shot.

"Billinski!" Coach Finstock called. "Can we have one practice where you aren't preoccupied with the stands?!"

"Sorry, Coach!" Stiles called back. "It's a very pleasant distraction, is all," he added under his breath, glancing at Derek again if only to catch the quick grin that flashed there at his words. Wolf hearing had its perks.

A while later, taking a water break, Danny sidled up next to Stiles, wearing a knowing smile. "Told you so," he said, elbowing Stiles playfully. "Miguel is definitely into you."

Stiles looked again to where Derek had been covertly watching practice, but he wasn't there anymore. He was up in the stands with the girls, plain as day, not even trying to hide. He didn't even look awkward chatting with Allison and Lydia. "Wow…" he said.

"Uh, hey," Danny interjected again, sounding serious now. "What's this 'Den' he's talking about anyway? And how did he get my number?"

Oh yeah, Danny hadn't ever actually been initiated as an official member of the pack.

"You'll find out," Jackson said with his usual superior tone, shouldering his way in for more water, and not caring that he knocked Stiles sideways in the process. His smile held this strange brotherly affection these days that he probably figured entitled him to still mercilessly pick on Stiles.

"It's our Batcave," Stiles explained. "Not quite as nice, but it'll get there. Guess Derek wants a pack meeting, or something, before training with the wolves."

"Cool," Danny said, and was off, back onto the field.

He really was far too awesome for his own good.

Stiles scored two goals before practice was over, and while he did still occasionally second guess himself and mess up, for the most part he was pretty damn coordinated. Coach Finstock even patted him on the shoulder with one of his patented mixed metaphors that made no sense, but that Stiles was certain was meant to mean, "Good game."

After practice, Stiles and the others were a whirlwind in the showers and locker room, eager to find out what Derek actually had planned, since no one seemed to have any inside info. And no, Stiles didn't either, despite everyone assuming he would.

The boys headed toward the parking lot together—Stiles, Scott, Jackson, Isaac, Boyd, and Danny—to find the girls and Derek waiting for them. Lydia and Allison got into Lydia's car as they drew near, while Erica hurried over and latched onto Stiles' arm as an indication she planned to ride with him. Derek got into his Camaro.

Stiles was a little disappointed, but he figured they needed the extra cars to transport everyone. He stopped with the others at Derek's window and had to ask, "So…what's the plan? Hankering for another giant, coed sleepover?" He grinned, not that he would be opposed to the idea.

Derek glanced at the assembled group. Lydia and Allison were parked close enough to hear as he said, "You all know the truth. You're pack. You should know how to defend yourselves too. And that includes _you_," he said to Stiles.

A sudden weight settled in Stiles' stomach as it dawned on him that Derek might not actually want him at training as a cheerleader. "Wait. What? But I have a concussion."

"No you don't. You were just knocked around at practice for an hour and you're fine."

"But…"

"Oh, and bring your lacrosse pads."

"Derek…"

Derek smiled somewhere between his usual smirk and a sweet smile. As Scott got in with the girls, and Boyd and Isaac got into the Camaro, Stiles realized he'd be totting Erica, Jackson, and Danny, which…was not a group he normally would have ever thought he'd be alone with.

He let that thought resonate in his head so he wouldn't think too hard on what Derek meant to do to him at this training session—and how many new bruises he'd have tomorrow—and tried to enjoy the way Derek touched his wrist briefly, affectionately before driving away.

Jackass.

* * *

TBC...


	12. Part 2: Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for all the great feedback so far, everyone! I'm really enjoying getting back to this fic. We'll have some upcoming sexy time and then...the first surprise I have in store for the boys. Enjoy!

Also, Incubus is available for preorder now! Just go to BigWorldNetwork DOT com and the Store, and it's there.

* * *

**Once More With Feeling – Part 2 of the With Feeling series**

**Chapter 2: Sparring Partners  
**

* * *

_Deep breaths_, Stiles told himself, _deep breaths_. He stood at one end of the large, open area of the den, facing off against Isaac. 'Facing off' meaning that Isaac was charging toward him at a full werewolf sprint, fangs and other beta aspects out and ready, while Stiles stood feeling like an idiot in his lacrosse pads, holding his lacrosse stick in front of him like a shield—maybe a spear? A staff? Stiles had to think quickly about just how he planned to use his stick as a weapon unless he wanted to end up on his ass—again.

Of course Derek had asked him to go first, as a 'good example' to the other humans in the pack. And of course Derek had asked Jackson to be the first wolf opposed to him. Stiles could already feel the bruises growing over his tailbone thanks to the all-out tackles Jackson had assaulted him with. And yet Derek still hadn't let him take a break!

"You know the way we move better than any of the other humans. It has to be you," Derek had said quietly when Stiles first tried to protest, rubbing his backside. "Watch, look for an opening, use what you have on you to your advantage. You may not be as strong as a wolf, but you're the most resilient, the most resourceful. You can do this."

Jackson had since traded out for Isaac, and Stiles was poised as his new opponent came at him, trying to soak in what Derek had said, to think and gauge the situation with what he had. With what he knew.

Isaac was taller than Jackson.

Isaac couldn't leap quite as high because of his longer legs.

Isaac would come in low, not high as Jackson had.

So when Isaac was just about on him, Stiles feinted right, leapt back to the left, and spun around swinging his lacrosse stick to strike Isaac along the back, who had run straight through the open space Stiles had left when he moved. Isaac was disoriented just long enough for Stiles to swipe with his stick at those long legs and drop the blonde right on his rear.

A chorus of cheers rose up from the assembled, watching pack. Even Isaac grinned up at Stiles from his position on the floor.

"Nice," Isaac said as Stiles held out a hand to heft the wolf up, not that he really needed assistance.

"Now imagine if that wasn't your lacrosse stick," Derek came up to them, "but an actual metal staff, or a blade. You could do some serious damage just by knowing your opponent. And I don't mean knowing Isaac," Derek pressed on as Stiles was about to comment. "I mean knowing your opponent. You weren't thinking about how Isaac fights, were you? You sized him up from what you know on the surface, from what you observed in the moment."

Stiles considered that. Sweat was dripping down his back beneath his pads. He blinked at Derek from inside his helmet, still a little amazed that he saw scrutiny and seriousness in those hazel eyes, sure, but also support and pride. "Yeah. I was thinking about his size, the way he was moving, and how I assumed, from that, how he'd attack."

Derek smiled. "Think you can do the same now with Jackson?" He patted Isaac on the back at the same time as he gestured Jackson to come back over.

Stiles groaned. He was exhausted, but he figured that was the point. If he wanted a break, he needed to manage the same or something equally awesome against Jackson.

_Fine_, Stiles thought. _I can take Mr. Perfect. Now let's think about this…_

As Jackson readied himself, teeth flashing white in a wide smile, and blue wolf eyes flaring to life as he transformed again on the other side of the den, Stiles tried to think like he just had with Isaac.

Jackson likes to show off. Even if Stiles didn't know him, that would be obvious enough.

Jackson will come in high. Not only because he's shorter but because he's fast—maybe faster than any of the others. He knows he can dodge in and surprise Stiles at the last minute by leaping right when Stiles thinks he's going to tackle. The tackle then comes from above and is significantly harder to block.

Jackson took off toward Stiles, not waiting for any sign of 'go' because, as Derek had said, in a real fight there aren't any rules. Stiles hunkered down. What if Jackson faked him out? Came in like before, but then did something else instead? Rather than second guess himself, Stiles studied the way Jackson was moving as he came closer, waiting for some small shift in his feet that would indicate direction.

Then he saw it—just a small, almost imperceptible pivot. Jackson was leaping for the attack! So Stiles dropped, straight down to his knees, giving him more room to swing the lacrosse stick than he'd had in this situation before, and swung up. The pocket hit Jackson right in the crotch, and Stiles' swing propelled him end over end into the pads on the floor beyond.

Jackson tumbled with a growl. Stiles jumped to his feet and fist-pumped his stick into the air.

"Yes! Eat that, J. Crew!"

The cheers and laughter from the pack was even louder than before, and although Jackson turned his nose up with a scowl, he nodded at Stiles as he shifted human again and climbed to his feet. "Yeah, yeah. Not bad, _Wal-Mart_."

"Dude," Stiles walked over to Jackson and patted his chest before he could escape to the sidelines, "I have _some_ class. It's Target, not Wal-Mart." He waggled an eyebrow and grinned wide. Even Jackson had to laugh.

Stiles tore his helmet off as he followed after Jackson to where the others were waiting, Derek nodding approval and at least allowing the break this time, since he didn't immediately motion Stiles back out again.

"Good," Derek said, arms crossed and face struggling to remain impassive despite the affection Stiles could easily see reflected there, "but you can be better. Next time we'll see how you handle _Boyd_. Danny!" he called with a quick turn of his head, meeting gazes with the fidgeting brunette. "Let's see what you can do. Erica, you start."

Danny may as well have been shaking, but he didn't let his anxiety show on his face as he jogged out into the open area for sparring. He was decked out in his lacrosse pads as well. He probably figured Derek was going easy on him, starting with Erica, but Stiles knew better; she played dirty.

Lydia was wearing Scott's pads, impatiently waiting her turn and eyeing Jackson like she couldn't wait to lay him out on the floor—in some way or another—but Allison had refused. She said she'd faced the wolves as just herself plenty already, and intended to keep her skills up the same way. Stiles was looking forward to her turn.

"We're ordering pizza or something later, right? I'm already starved," Stiles said as he collapsed into a chair—a folding one, not one of the nice plush chairs since he was so sweaty. "I told Dad I was eating with Scott, and I'd actually like part of that statement to be true at some point."

Scott, on his feet to watch the next bout, merely chuckled.

Derek came over to stand beside Stiles' chair, on the end a few feet from the where the others were gathered. "It's a start—all this. My pack before was strong. This one can be too. This doesn't just teach you how to fight, it brings us together."

"Pack bonding?" Stiles smiled up at him.

Derek turned a raised eyebrow on him. "And the chance to understand how each other fights and moves. We need to know how to work together, how to read each other, as much as we need to fight on our own. Your mother is welcome to join us for these sessions!" he called over to Scott, about the time Erica collided with Danny's neck—thighs first.

Scott's head whipped around toward Derek. "Really? I don't know what she'd say to that, but…I think I'd feel safer if she learned a few things. Maybe she'll like seeing that we're trying to stay prepared, you know. I'll ask." He flashed that puppy smile, the one that made Stiles want to pat Scott on the head, and made him wonder if Scott's tail would be wagging if he had one.

As the evening progressed, Stiles was thankful that Derek didn't expect anyone to take a second turn, so he was able to discard his pads and watch in comfort. Derek was especially attentive with the newer members of the pack, like Danny and Lydia. Each of them—each of all of them—had certain strengths, and somehow Derek seemed to know just the right things to say to bring those strengths out in them.

Danny was a goalie; he naturally felt the need to hold his ground. But he was also a very fast dodger, built from years of diving after close-calls. Derek soon had him flipping, dodging, and dipping his way around Erica—and eventually Scott—like a dancer.

Lydia had the advantage of not being afraid of anything. Derek told her to use that, to stand her ground until the very last second and then make a bold move, a strong strike, or kick, or unexpected blow. Her style of fighting definitely matched her overall personality, and she did eventually get her chance to bring Jackson down to the ground.

He'd gotten a hold of her, arms tight around her arms and chest from behind, and instead of struggling like most people would have done, she simply went limp. Jackson fell with her, unprepared for the sudden dead weight in his arms, and she was able to get away and plant a knee in his groin. His balls were really taking a beating today.

Stiles struggled not to snicker when that thought crossed his mind.

Then he tried not to stare too hard at Derek when several decidedly more personal and naughty thoughts replaced any thoughts of Jackson, though concentrated around the same body part.

Sexual innuendo aside, Derek was really doing it, being an awesome leader with a firm but gentle hand, and getting everyone to be better and have fun at the same time. Stiles felt his own swell of pride at how Derek was stepping up to become the Alpha he was meant to be all along.

As Stiles was staring at Derek—definitely too hard, despite his best efforts—the Alpha soon caught his gaze and sauntered over. Allison was having far too much fun testing out her new rubber practice arrows on Boyd and Jackson, and the others were all exhausted and watching intently from the sidelines while Danny called in their pizza order.

No one was paying enough attention to Derek or Stiles when Derek stepped up behind his chair, leaned in, and whispered, "It's all because of you, you know? Because you make me feel stronger. You make me stronger, and we'll be a stronger pack because of it too."

Stiles shivered at the praise, warmth spreading in his chest in a way that even wiping the floor with Jackson hadn't accomplished. He glanced up at Derek, and was surprised yet again when the Alpha leaned the rest of the way down to kiss him. Right there. Where everyone could see! Okay, so maybe none of them even noticed, but Derek hadn't hesitated or cared that they saw. He kissed Stiles, soft but soundly, then pulled back with a smile.

Once Stiles found his voice again, he smirked. "You're a bit of a slave-driver and a perfectionist…but a pretty good leader. And a really awesome boyfriend," he winked.

Derek huffed, but retained his smile and didn't try to correct the term.

Later, once they had finally called it quits and were gathered around in a large circle on the sparring floor eating pizza and downing soda—after they'd all had plenty of water; Derek's orders—Derek asked if Stiles wanted to tell his dad about the wolves, so he could be involved too, like Scott's mom.

"We won't be able to keep things a secret from him forever," Derek said, which Stiles knew implied more than just the secret of werewolves, but what Stiles was doing in his spare time with one of them.

"I know, and I appreciate the offer, but…not yet," Stiles said. "I need to think about how to approach the whole thing, ease into it, ya know?"

"Your dad will react way better than Mom did," Scott said knowingly. "He's the most rational person I know. As long as you can explain it well, he'll be cool about it."

"Instead of the alternative of him freaking and starting up some kind of wolf hunt?" Jackson offered with a smug expression.

Stiles scowled. "You're the reason he's hesitant to trust me these days, you know."

"Hey, I squared all that away and admitted you didn't kidnap me. Even though technically you _did_."

"You were a lizard monster!"

"You could have tried telling me instead of just locking me away."

"Coz the truth works so well on you."

"You—"

"_Enough_," Derek interjected, tone firm and eyes flashing with just enough authority that Jackson listened without question. Even Stiles could admit he'd have a hard time arguing against Derek in Alpha mode. Derek turned understanding eyes on Stiles. "Take your time. When you're ready, we can talk to him. If you're pack, he is too. Whether he's one knowingly is up to you, but the invitation stands. And not only because he's the Sheriff and could cause more problems for us. The same invitation is open to all of you," he said to the room.

The other gathered wolves looked understandably skeptical, other than Allison, though it was more a truce with the Argents than Chris being a full member of the pack. Isaac didn't have any family left to tell. Boyd and Erica didn't have any desire to inform their neglectful parents. Lydia huffed like it was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. Danny looked maybe a little contemplative about it. But Jackson merely looked sad.

It was only for a moment, but Stiles saw it, because he understood it, that longing ache for parents that weren't there. Jackson didn't even remember his real parents, but he still felt their loss. Stiles had lost his mother only a few years ago, after the Hale House fire, but even though he had been young, he remembered her like a brand in his brain and missed her every day.

He glanced over at Derek and knew that the Alpha had understood the silence and expressions from his pack just as adeptly.

"Pack means family," Derek said. "If there's ever anyone who you consider close enough to be part of _this_ family…just let me know. Because we're in this together, and no single one of us is more important than the pack."

Stiles snorted—really, he couldn't help himself. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few?" he smirked. "Though I never really saw the appeal of _Wrath of Khan_. Totally overrated."

Derek snapped his gaze to Stiles looking scandalized, and Stiles even noticed Derek's right hand twitch into the Vulcan greeting for a moment before he hid it by clenching his fist. "Because _The Final Frontier_ deserves more notable mention?" he couldn't help shooting back, dripping sarcasm.

Stiles knew he could get Derek on that one. He grinned wider when he saw how the others were mostly looking on in confusion, though Isaac was snickering. Stiles mentally reminded himself that there were plenty of reasons why Isaac was quickly becoming his favorite, but getting an original series Star Trek reference was a total plus.

"Dude, you are such a _geek_," Stiles called out affectionately, and if only for the way Derek actually flushed with color at the mention, the others all busted out laughing.

* * *

Things continued in much the same way throughout the week, the general idea being that everyone would get together after lacrosse practice unless they absolutely couldn't. Stiles told his dad that he and Scott were part of a study group to make sure Scott actually made it to the next grade, and that wasn't a total lie. Whenever it wasn't someone's turn on the sparring floor, the rest of them spent their time studying or getting schoolwork done. They were still able to watch the pairs or groups training and keep up with school at the same time. It was…synergistic, Stiles decided.

Fun as the group dynamics and pack bonding were, however, Stiles was quickly growing anxious that there hadn't been any chance for some alone time with Derek. Derek was more hesitant to risk getting caught by the Sheriff now that he'd had more time to really think things through, so as Stiles wasn't getting any late night visits to his bedroom, he had been spending maybe a little too much time with his right hand in the dead of night, and his pillow and sheets that still smelled like Derek—younger and older.

By the end of the week, Stiles was a little worried that Derek hadn't tried anything other than chaste kisses during their practice sessions. He feared Derek might be backtracking and thinking it was best to wait until Stiles was older, which Stiles had a million arguments against but he hadn't actually brought the subject up with Derek yet.

Derek had called practice early Thursday night, and said there wouldn't be any practice Friday as he had 'something else to do'. Stiles had been whisked off by the others to grab dinner and head home before he could pry into just what Derek meant by that.

Now, Friday lacrosse practice was coming to an end, and Stiles had no plans for afterward. Everyone else seemed to have plans, none of which included him, and now that things had settled into a routine with their sparring practices, Scott was finally going to ask his mom if she wanted to join their sessions next week. Stiles' dad had normal day shifts both Saturday and Sunday, so Stiles was looking forward to some Dad time during the nights, but otherwise he had a whole weekend ahead of him with nothing to do but study.

Derek hadn't even stayed all the way to the end of lacrosse, though Stiles had been pleased to see him in the stands. He moved a little slower in the locker room because of that, not eager to head home alone, and wondered if he should just call Derek and ask what he was doing…when the lights went out.

Stiles looked around. He was the last one there. _Shit_. Why did these things always have to happen in the locker room? When he was alone? And stupid Derek wasn't even—

Then Stiles felt it—'it' being the only thing he could pinpoint at first, not any who, what, why, or where. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention, goosebumps formed on his arms, and he shuddered. He steeled himself, trying to keep calm, keep centered, and listen for wherever his attacker might be. He couldn't hear anything other than his own shaky breaths, but he could feel…_something_. Something familiar. Something closely connected to him and full of warmth.

Stiles straightened. He had been about to reach in and grab his lacrosse stick for a weapon, and even though now he knew he wouldn't need it, he still took it in hand. He was shirtless yet, but freshly showered, his jeans hanging low on his hips. Slowly, he closed his locker, set his T-shirt on the bench beside him, and whipped around just as _Derek_ pressed him back with a clang against the metal doors.

"Nice try, wolf boy," Stiles smirked. He tapped his lacrosse stick against Derek's inner thigh where it was wedged between the Alpha's legs. "What was that you said earlier in the week about…imagine if this was a blade?"

Derek's white teeth flashed in the darkness—smiling. "You sensed me. Now that we're officially mated, I guess there's no more sneaking up on you." He spoke softly, quietly despite there being no one else around, which made the darkness and their closeness seem even more suddenly intimate.

Stiles let his lacrosse stick clatter to the floor and brought his hands up to grip Derek's shirt past his open leather jacket. "Bonus," he said, and tugged Derek in for a kiss.

Being barely an inch apart in height made an embrace so easy and perfectly fit, like they were made to collide and hold on tight. Which, Stiles had to remind himself, they sort of were.

He lapped at Derek's tongue, pressed his lips to Derek's tightly, and delved in deep. Derek's stubble chaffed a little, especially against Stiles' smooth will-never-ever-be-able-to-grow-a-beard skin, but it was worth every scratch.

Derek slid his arms around Stiles' naked back and held him tight as if he feared Stiles might slip away and vanish. Stiles clung tighter to Derek's shirt and pressed his hips forward to indicate he had no plans on going anywhere.

"So…" Stiles gasped from their lip lock, breath short and lips shiny and wet, "…what did you have to do tonight?" He blinked at Derek's glittering hazel eyes that were barely an inch from his own.

When they flashed red with promise, Stiles' entire vision was crimson for a moment. "Well," Derek said in a husky growl, "I was planning on _you_."

TBC...

* * *

Sexy time next!


End file.
